Growing Pains
by Friendlybrarian
Summary: An alternate universe tale. Gohan comes to grip with his abandonment issues, Goku learns not to underestimate his importance in his family's lives, Vegeta learns the importance of family, and Trunks comes to understand what friendship really means. All lessons which must be learnt the hard way, and not without sacrifice...
1. Expiration and Unlikely Survival

**This is alternate universe. Some canon events have been altered, which should become apparent as the characters reference their histories.**

**This story was cowritten by my sister and I and we used Dragon Ball Z as a framework to create our own universe. Some important things to note: 1.) Before the events of this story, Goku's original Saiyan programming was temporarily reactivated and while evil, he killed Gohan (who has since been wished back). 2.) Goten, Trunks, Bulla, Pan, Marron, and Valese are all close friends and around the same age. Pan is OLDER than Goten in fact. Valese is the half-Saiyan and half-DRAGON daughter of Turles, who is a reformed baddie much like Vegeta; her dragon mother is not in the picture. 3.) Goku has already become Super Saiyan Three AND Four even though this story is set after Cell but before Buu. 4.) Bear with it! Things'll become clear if you're patient with the story. Enjoy!  
**

Chapter One: Expiration and Unlikely Survival

"You're gonna have to save your energy if you don't wanna tire yourself out halfway through the fight!" The words were stern, but Goku couldn't help but grin as he powered down and watched his little one catch his breath.

Although panting heavily, Goten's eyes were bright as he lifted his head to look up at his father. His fatigue gave way to delighted determination. "That time I almost got you!" he said excitedly. "Let's go again!"

Goku's smile widened. In more ways than one, Goten reminded him of himself. His lust for the fight, for training and getting stronger, was all too familiar. It wasn't just his Saiyan blood, though that was certainly a part of it. In a way, Goten had subverted his Saiyan heritage, because while those instincts bred a love of violence, warfare, and killing, Goten was generally a peaceable boy, interested only in sparring for the sake of sport and personal growth and not interested in seriously harming anyone. Goku couldn't be prouder.

It was only recently that he'd decided that Goten's muscles were developed enough for slightly more intense training. Even though the boy was only seven years of age, his body's musculature had shown the typical accelerated maturity rate of a Saiyan. And honestly, Goten had been pestering him to go harder for a while now. He was champing at the bit to start "big boy" training—"hit me the same as you hit Gohan!" he had whined, much to Goku's amusement and Chi-Chi's chagrin.

That was another thing; Chi-Chi had been all for letting Goten train. It rather confused Goku and Gohan both, since they remembered what a trial it had been for Gohan to be allowed to fight, but, well, maybe all the dangerous enemies that seemed to follow the Son family around had changed Chi-Chi's perspective on the whole thing. After all, it was a mother's worst nightmare for her children to be defenseless. Better Goten get roughed up just a little now, by his father, and learn how to beat real enemies, than for his first experience in combat be the real deal.

Goku's thoughts took an uncharacteristically more somber turn as he felt a familiar sensation deep in his chest. There was another reason he needed to make sure Goten was prepared to take care of himself…but he shook his head; there was time to think of that later.

"Are you sure you don't want a water break first?" Goku asked, eyeing Goten as he hopped up and down in impatience. "It's important to stay hydrated, y'know!"

Goten paused in his jumping and pouted. "But I'm not thirsty! Except for sparring! Yup, yup, I'm thirsty for that!"

Goku laughed, ignoring the sharp pain he received for doing so. "All right, then, son, try to keep up with me." He sent a punch sailing straight toward his son's face, and was pleased to see Goten's reflexes were fast enough that he blocked the blow with no problem.

"Is that all?" Goten taunted jokingly, and sent a flurry of punches at Goku's gut.

Surprised, Goku doubled over, grunting in pain. But he smiled. "Good, Goten. As you can see from my reaction, my stomach is pretty sensitive. Remember to watch your opponent's reactions to certain attacks, and don't be afraid to exploit those weaknesses."

Goten nodded, having stopped his attacks to listen to the advice with rapt attention.

"But be aware of your own weaknesses too, because your opponent will try to do the same. Now, I expect your strategy to focus heavily on my stomach area now, but not too heavily, okay? The trick is to make it seem like you're not targeting any one area, so I don't know to block that area. Don't make a pattern out of it or I can easily figure it out and block your attacks, and worse, you'll become predictable and defeatable. Ready? Let's begin again."

"Okay!" Goten threw himself into attacking, and Goku was pleased to see that Goten was doing an excellent job. His strategy seemed haphazard, but there was an underlying method to the madness, and Goku had no doubt that Goten would be safe if ever he was attacked.

And yet—

Goku stopped fighting and stood back, noticing that Goten seemed exhausted again, like he only had short spurts of energy. He crossed his arms, thinking, and after a moment, the answer came to him.

"Don't put everything into the fight right from the beginning, son," Goku told Goten, kneeling down beside him and reaching a strong hand to his shoulder to steady him.

Goten's brow furrowed in confusion. "Huh? How come?"

"You're using too much energy at once," Goku explained. "Your attacks are strong, but only for a short while. Don't go all out at first. Wait for your opponent to tire and get a little sloppier, and _then_ unleash your full power. They won't know what hit 'em!"

"Wow, really? Okay, let's try again!"

This time, Goku could only watch in amazement as Goten's fighting seemed to transform right before his eyes. He felt a surge of pride; Goten had had so much raw energy and potential of his own, and under Goku's careful guiding hand that energy had been shaped into a usable and fearsome technique. He couldn't believe what a fast learner Goten was! And he still couldn't believe, even though this was his second son and he really ought to be used to it by now, that he had had the privilege of being any part of making a miracle like Goten possible. Goten was like a beautiful but plain piece of clay, and with Goku's steady and unwavering hand, the lump of clay was slowly changing to a precious piece of ceramic pottery. Or like a seed that Goku had planted and tended and cultivated to grow into a strong, healthy plant. Goku felt grateful and awed even thinking about it.

However, he snapped out of it as a tiny elbow rammed into his chest. Goku staggered and fell heavily to one knee, trying not to let on how much pain he was in so as not to alarm his son.

Obliviously, Goten pumped a fist in the air, victorious. "I won! I won against you, Dad, didn't I?"

Goku gave Goten a thumbs up as he got back to his feet with difficulty. "Well done," he told Goten sincerely and enthusiastically. "You beat me."

"He said it! Did you hear that, Gohan?"

Goku turned his head, surprised that he hadn't sensed Gohan watching them from the patio. Gohan smiled as he walked further into the backyard, approaching the two of them.

"You've improved, Goten. I'm impressed," he said.

"Thanks, Gohan!" Goten's chest swelled, and Gohan made a face at the display of pride. "But you know, it's all because Dad was givin' me all these tips during our match. I like that kind of sparring 'cause he lets me take breaks and pretty much tells me what to do to beat him!"

Gohan laughed. "Could I have a turn sparring with you, Dad?"

Goku nodded fervently even though he felt like resting. "Yes, sure, Gohan!" Things were sometimes a little rocky between him and Gohan since the events of the Cell Games. He was grateful that, just now, Gohan seemed to be in one of his good swings, and Goku wanted to keep it that way—especially now. Gohan rarely sparred anymore, and preferred to do so with Piccolo rather than with him, so Goku jumped on the chance.

So Goku started to engage Gohan to the best of his abilities, but he found that, in his condition, Gohan was a little too fast for him. Easily, Gohan dodged every punch, and Goku quickly found himself on the defensive.

Gohan smirked, assuming that Goku was holding back on him. "Come on, I haven't slacked on my training _that_ much, Dad. You don't have to give me this many free hits."

"Sorry," Goku muttered, sharpening his concentration. The last thing he wanted to do was make Gohan think that he underestimated him. But his nervousness at not wanting to give out the wrong impression only made him less focused.

Thankfully, Gohan didn't seem to notice. For a while, the two were at a stalemate, blocking each other's every move with lightning precision, until Gohan said, "So aren't you going to teach me?"

Goku looked up, surprised.

Gohan's expression turned a little sheepish, unsure. "Like you taught Goten? Give me tips?"

"Oh! Oh…yes! I didn't know you'd want me to give you any," Goku said, still truly floored. Gohan had been so _angry_ with him recently, and Goku was wary of giving him unsolicited advice, especially about fighting. That wasn't to say Goku didn't want to; he did. He just had no idea why Gohan was allowing him the opportunity. And the irony was not lost on him: that Goten had begged and pleaded to be trained "just like you train Gohan!" and now here was Gohan requesting to be taught "like you taught Goten!"

"Well, Gohan," Goku said, replaying the fight thus far in his head, "it looks like your main weakness lies in complacency."

"Complacency?" Gohan tilted his head.

"Yeah…?" Goku looked at his son expectantly.

"Well, I—no, nothing." Gohan flushed and looked down. "Continue."

"What is it, Gohan?" asked Goku, now curious as to what Gohan could possibly want to keep from him. "You don't have to be scared to tell me anything, you know that."

Gohan flinched and Goku saw with a pang that familiar look of pulling inward Gohan sometimes got when Goku overstepped his boundaries and tried to be too familiar and fatherly again. Gohan wasn't ready for Goku to step back into that role, and Goku understood even though it hurt him. Their previous closeness wasn't anywhere near what it had been before.

"I just…didn't know you knew a word that big, is all," Gohan said, his voice colder.

"Oh." Goku grinned through the emotional and increasingly physical pain. It was all he knew how to do. "Yeah. Chi-Chi taught me that one." When no answer from Gohan seemed forthcoming, Goku decided it would probably be best to plow ahead. "Well, anyway, Gohan, it seems like you easily fall into the swing of a fight and stop paying attention."

A glimmer of interest in Gohan's eyes. He perked up. Goku was grateful, at least, that he was getting through.

"Beware of routines, Gohan. They serve you well in the academic world, but here it's a whole different ball game." Goku smiled, remembering a story Gohan had told about his first baseball game in high school, how he had amazed everyone by catching a fly ball by, well, flying. Goku tried not to think about the bitterness Gohan had exuded when he'd mentioned that Goku hadn't been around to play catch in the yard to practice. They'd never just played ball, like other fathers and sons; it had always been about martial arts and strength. There was a part of Goku that regretted that, but it was too late to do anything about it now. Now that they had drifted so far apart, sparring was the only language Goku and Gohan could still speak together.

"Don't get complacent and expect your opponent to do the same thing the ninth time that he's done all eight times before, because it just so happens that the ninth time could be the time he decides to shake it up a bit. If your defenses aren't prepared for everything, if you don't stay alert at all times"—Goku's normally chipper face turned grim—"it could spell the difference between life and death."

"Got it," said Gohan, unimpressed. "Shall we go again?"

Goku gave a nod, glad that he had gotten some time to rest his body. He could dodge more easily now, and his punches were stronger. Ultimately, though, as he knew would happen, his eldest son defeated him.

Goku looked up from where he had fallen from Gohan's crushing blow to the head. He could see the shadow of a dark smile on Gohan's lips, and knew that there was a part of Gohan that still resented him and was glad to see him hurt. But he also knew it was only a mixture of Gohan's hormones and the pain, guilt, and grief he had experienced. After what seemed an interminably long time, Gohan reached down to help Goku up.

Goku took the proffered hand gratefully and hoisted himself to his feet. By now his chest was burning, and he knew he shouldn't have exerted himself so much, but it was worth it.

"Hey!" a familiar voice called from the sky.

Goten laughed and waved both hands in the air. "Hiya, Trunks!"

The young, purple-haired prince grinned as he descended into the Son backyard. He casually leaned with his elbow on Goten's head, as if Goten was an armrest instead of a person. "What're you guys doing?"

"Sparring, Trunks! It was great! I beat Dad!" Goten said happily, not seeming to mind the way Trunks was using him.

"Did you?" Trunks took his arm off of Goten so that he could step back and take a good look at him. "Are you sure he didn't let you?"

"Nah, he beat me, fair and square," Goku cut in. "He needed some pointers to form his technique, but then he pretty much nailed me!"

Trunks rubbed his chin, looking from Goten's flushed, beaming face to Goku's open and honest one. "Well, if Goten can beat you now, that must mean he's stronger than me. And my father wouldn't be pleased to hear that. Obviously, I need to get the same training he did!" Trunks demanded arrogantly.

"I didn't hear a request anywhere in there, Trunks," Gohan said.

"Nobody asked you, Great Saiyadork," Trunks returned without missing a beat.

Goku sighed inwardly. He really wasn't in any state to push his body any longer, but he didn't want to deny Trunks the opportunity to get some training from him. He knew this might be one of his last opportunities, and he also knew that Vegeta went a little too rough at times. Being much more Saiyan than Earthling, for Vegeta the lines between tough love and all-out pounding seemed very blurred. He didn't seem to understand that constant pounding on Trunks wasn't constructive and wouldn't make him a better fighter in the end.

"All right, Trunks," Goku said, settling into a fighting stance once more and clenching his teeth to the pain exploding behind his ribcage. "Let's do it."

* * *

That night, Goku lay in bed between his two sons, sore and tired but content. Trunks was curled up near Goten, having opted to stay over for the night as he often did. Goku listened to the chorus of snores and, odd as it might sound, it soothed him. But tired as he was, sleep evaded him. Maybe it was because he knew he wouldn't have much longer to enjoy his sons' presence, and on a subconscious level, he refused to waste these last, few, precious moments.

Gohan stirred, and Goku glanced over at him, wondering if he was having a dream. If so, he hoped it was a pleasant one. He'd heard from Chi-Chi that Gohan's sleeping had become increasingly restless as he'd entered adolescence, and there were probably a number of contributing factors to that, but guilt gnawed away at Goku as he considered that it probably had very much to do with him.

The movements rustling the bed diminished, though, and Gohan lay very still. Goku's concern heightened to alarm. He knew he was probably just overreacting, but the sudden stillness of his son's body disturbed him. Before he could stop himself, he reached over a hand to shake Gohan.

Gohan caught Goku's hand before Goku could touch him.

"Gohan!" said Goku in surprise. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just woke up," Gohan grunted. "I'd thank you not to touch me."

The words were harsh, but Goku knew Gohan didn't truly mean them to sting as much as they did. Gohan just wasn't ready to regain the old familiarity and camaraderie they had enjoyed in the past. After all, all that _was_ the past now. Goku resolved to keep Gohan's boundaries extra firmly in mind.

But he also knew that there wasn't much time. He took a deep breath. He couldn't leave Gohan without warning again; it had almost broken his son the first time. Well, actually, it _had_ broken Gohan. Goku admired how Gohan was doing his best to slowly repair himself, little by little opening himself up to Goku and making himself vulnerable again even though the effort that took must have been gargantuan…Goku couldn't be more grateful or proud. He just wished there was more time.

Finally, he made up his mind to speak. "Listen," Goku said quietly, "there's something I have to tell you."

Gohan gave no indication that he was listening, but he didn't object. Goku took that as license to go on.

"I'm proud of you…" Goku could sense Gohan stiffening, but he pressed on; now more than ever, this was important. "Not just for how strong you've become, but because of your smarts. Gohan, you might think I haven't been paying attention to your grades, but that's not true, Mr. Straight-A's."

Gohan was quiet for a moment, taken aback. Then, graciously, he said, "Thanks, Dad."

"And Goten is becoming just as educated as you, and as strong. I don't have anything more to teach either of you. In fact, you've taught _me_ a lot in the past few days alone."

"Thanks," Gohan said again. It seemed like that was all he was going to say, but then he awkwardly blurted out, "But I think you do still have more to teach us. I mean, we may be better with the reading and educational stuff, but you're still the best fighter I know. And I…I really… liked our sparring lesson today." He hesitated. "I hope you'll give us more of those."

It was Goku's turn to be quiet, pensive. "I didn't teach you anything that you didn't already know deep down. I just helped bring your knowledge to the surface. But now it's time for you to do that on your own." A sudden burst of agony. He couldn't contain it any longer. He gripped his chest and groaned.

"Dad!" Gohan cried in alarm, sitting up and fully facing Goku for the first time.

Goku smiled through the pain. "No, Gohan, no, it's okay. It's time for me to go, but before I do, I have one last thing—"

"Wait, _'go'_?" Gohan was panicking. "What do you mean 'go'?" As soon as he'd asked, he understood. "It's the virus, isn't it? Dad, don't worry, I still have your medicine." He pulled the vial out of his pocket. "You said you'd take it if it got too bad."

Goku shook his head. "This isn't too bad." He marveled at how Gohan had kept the cure near him, even in the pocket of his pajamas. Even though Gohan had mixed feelings toward Goku, he really did still care and Goku felt his heart swell. He had been sick from a relapse of his old virus for a while now, but refused to take the medicine after reading the label on the medicine. Since it was peacetime, there hadn't been an immediate need to take it, and he had promised that he would if it truly became unbearable…but, there were the horrifying implications on the label…

"What are you waiting for?" Gohan asked, frustrated. "You said you feel like you're dying."

"I am dying," Goku said calmly. "The virus is nearly done eating away at my heart. I won't last much longer…but I have to tell you—"

"Tell me after you take your medicine," Gohan interrupted. "Dad, you don't have to die. The cure's right here in my hand!"

"Gohan," said Goku quietly, "the label says this disease is 'communicative.' That means there's a chance it's contagious. I've been hanging out with you and Goten the most, and if you get the virus, I want you to have the medicine."

Gohan's eyes widened. "Oh. So that's what all this was about. Why you wouldn't take the medicine right away as soon as you first told us you were feeling symptoms. Well, I feel healthy. Goten hasn't complained about any chest pains." Gohan pressed the little glass container into Goku's hand. "We're both fine. If we were going to get the virus, don't you think we would have felt it by now? Here, just take a little bit, and then we'll save the rest just in case we need it."

"No," said Goku firmly. "I want you to have it all."

Gohan was frustrated. "What do you think Mom will say if I tell her you died from the heart virus and I had the cure in my pocket the whole time?"

"Your mother will understand," Goku said. He was starting to feel a bit out of breath. "I told her everything she needed to know when I was telling her that we were going sparring outside."

_Oh,_ Gohan thought. _He must have already told Mom he was dying. I wonder how she's doing._

"Gohan, listen," said Goku, looking at his son intently. "There's a level beyond Super Saiyan Four."

"A Super Saiyan Five?" Gohan asked, surprised. Where was this coming from?

"Yeah." Goku nodded. "I was only able to achieve it once…" Goku closed his eyes against the painful memory, but he knew he had to communicate this to Gohan, to leave him in safety. "When I turned evil… and…and… killed you… my anger, and pain, and guilt transformed me into a Super Saiyan Five for a short while. Super Saiyan Five will give you the power you need to defend the family from any enemy, so you must learn to reach it."

"Dad, I think you're forgetting that I can't even reach Super Saiyan Three or Four," Gohan pointed out. "There's no way I'll reach Five."

"You will, Gohan," insisted Goku. "It's very similar to the way you reach One, so I don't think Two through Four is even necessary to reach Five. Remember, I reached Super Saiyan by watching my best friend die. I reached Five by watching my son die and knowing it was my fault. You were the person I'd give anything to protect."

"So…you're saying to reach Super Saiyan Five, I have to kill a family member?" Gohan asked skeptically.

"No," Goku said, shaking his head furiously. "The killing part wasn't important. Gohan, you were my world. And when I wasn't strong enough to protect you, my world came crashing down. What was important was how much I loved you. How much I wanted to protect you. How guilty I felt that I hadn't. Gohan, to achieve Super Saiyan Five, you have to focus on how much you love the ones you want to protect. How desperate you'd feel if you didn't have the power to protect them. Super Saiyan Five will give you that power. The only problem is, I couldn't sustain that much power in my body for very long. I was only able to stay Super Saiyan Five for a few seconds. You'll have to learn on your own how to sustain the form."

Now that Goku had said what he needed to, Gohan saw him drifting off. Desperation seized him, and he placed his hand over his own heart. "Dad! You said you'd do anything to protect me. Well, all I need to do is a single blast through my chest, and I'm history. And I'll do it too! But you can stop me. If you take your medicine, I won't do it. It's your choice, Dad. Either we both die, or we both live. It's up to you."

Goku looked up at Gohan and smiled. He slid his hand in between Gohan's hand and chest, and held Gohan's hand tightly in his. "You won't kill yourself, Gohan. You care too much about Goten to leave him brotherless."

Gohan looked at Goten and dropped his hand, knowing his dad was right.

"Dad…please," Gohan begged, trying not to cry. Then another thought, one even more distressing, struck him. "Oh no. Dad, Shenron can't bring back people who die from natural causes like disease. If you die from this virus, you're gone for good." Goku didn't reply, and Gohan knew that his dad had already considered it. A strange mixture of resentment, hatred, love, and desperation overwhelmed Gohan's mind, and, without really thinking about it, he found that he had placed his hands over Goku's heart. Gohan swallowed, his throat drying as his brain caught up with his body's intentions. Feeling somehow sick and triumphant at the same time, he said shakily, "Well, if you're going to die either way, I'll kill you so we can wish you back."

"I used the Dragon Balls not too long ago," Goku reminded Gohan, and Gohan remembered how, right after Goku had revealed that he was in pain from the virus but unwilling to take the medicine, Goten had used the pretense of giving his father a hug to jab a syringe filled with the cure into Goku's back. It had been clever, even if Goku hadn't taken the "betrayal" or the needle so well. Unfortunately, Goku had gathered the Dragon Balls and wished that Goten had never administered the medicine to him. And now Gohan knew why. It had been because, all along, Goku had been afraid that he or Goten would contract the virus after Goku had already taken the last of the medicine, and then Goku would have to watch his children die with no hope of wishing them back.

Gohan frowned. "Yeah, I know you used them and I wish you hadn't so we could wish you back right away, but I guess I can wait as long as I know you're coming back."

Goku placed his hand gently over Gohan's. "No, Gohan. Even if you try to wish me back, I'm not coming back this time. You and the whole Earth will be safer without me here. You and Goten are strong enough now to be the saviors of the Earth. Don't waste the Dragon Balls on me…"

"It won't be a waste. I'm sorry, Dad." Gohan could feel Goku's heartbeat slowing and weakening, and he knew he had to make a decision quick. He took a deep breath. "Masenko!"

Nothing happened.

"Oh, that's right." Gohan had recently had trouble performing spoken energy attacks because Chi-Chi had insisted his wisdom teeth be removed. For some reason, throughout the recovery period of the surgery, Gohan hadn't been able to do Kamehameha waves or Masenkos. An odd impediment to be sure, but there it was. Gohan stared down at Goku, depressed. Despite his anger at the man, it was after all anger at being abandoned by him. He wasn't ready for Goku to be gone forever.

Again, practically without thinking, his body acted on his desperation and he shook Trunks awake.

Trunks muttered, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. "What…?"

"Trunks!" Gohan hissed, trying his best not to jostle Goten. "Trunks, I need your help."

Trunks's big blue eyes finally opened. "Whattayawant?" he grumbled at Gohan, looking none too pleased to have his beauty sleep interrupted.

"Trunks, this is going to sound horrible and insane," Gohan prefaced, knowing that it was an understatement but he had to at least try to prepare the kid, "but I need you to kill my dad."

Trunks blinked at Gohan for a moment and then turned over, pulling the covers over his shoulder. "Obviously I'm dreaming."

"Trunks." Gohan yanked the blanket off of Trunks and forced him to look at him. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Dad doesn't have much time left…"

Trunks shook his head. "Certainly not if you want me to _kill_ him! I know you don't like him ever since he died at the Cell Games—"

And there it was. Gohan cringed. "It's not that simple."

"—But don't look at me. I'm not killing your dad! Even if I wanted to, Goten's my best friend, and there's no way he'd ever forgive me!"

Gohan looked at Goten's peaceful, sleeping form, oblivious to all of this, but he knew he definitely couldn't ask Goten to kill his dad. He sighed.

Goku placed his hand over Gohan's hand, and Gohan looked up, surprised. "Gohan, here," Goku said, letting energy sink into Gohan's body. "I'm giving you the last of my energy. We can do a Masenko together, if it'll make you happier for me to die this way instead of the virus. But I want you to know you have nothing to feel guilty for. You've made my life so happy." He placed his hand on Gohan's leg. "And Goten too." He held Goten's hand, feeling his life receding and contentment spreading through him. "I'm so happy."

Gohan looked away from his dad's face as he brought his hands back to his dad's chest.

Trunks's eyes were huge. "Gohan, are you _really_ doing this? Don't! Why would you want to?"

Gohan felt hot tears prickling at the back of his eyes. "I don't want to," he said huskily.

"Then _don't!_" Trunks pleaded, starting to feel scared. He didn't really want to watch a man die, especially not Goten's dad. And if Gohan could flip out like that and just murder his father, who was to say he couldn't do that to anyone else? The Son house, even more so than his own, had always seemed to Trunks a place of safety, warmth, and love, and now the little boy was just confused. Instinctively, Trunks put his arms around the sleeping Goten, calmed a little by the younger boy's unconscious nestling to Trunks's chest.

Gohan knew there was no time to explain. "Masenko!" he rasped, feeling the power that Goku had lent him surging through him and assisting him even though his pronunciation was flawed. This time he felt the blast rip through Goku's heart. Goku's hand fell off of Gohan's leg, his other hand going limp in Goten's.

Gohan couldn't help it. He felt tears leaking from his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Dad." He finally gathered the courage to look into Goku's face, and despite himself, he smiled through his tears, returning the smile that Goku still had on his face. "You're just always happy, aren't you, Dad?" Gohan shook his head and sat back on his heels, emotionally drained. "I'm sorry I had to do that in front of you, Trunks." Fiercely, in his mind he vowed never to be too late to save Goten. He'd work hard to achieve the power of a Super Saiyan Five.

There was a rap on the window. Trunks and Gohan looked over to see a familiar pointed silhouette.

"I'll let him in," Trunks said hastily, extricating himself from his friend and hurrying to open the window.

The curtains flew outward as the Prince of all Saiyans made his entrance. Secretly, Trunks was relieved to no longer be alone in the room with the unstable teenager who had just blown a hole through his father's heart.

Vegeta looked down at Goku's body, his expression hardening. "I was hoping I was wrong. I felt Kakarot's power disappear, and—Trunks." Vegeta abruptly stopped ignoring Trunks and went over to him, examining his face and body curtly and roughly. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," Trunks said shakily.

Vegeta gave a swift nod and turned to Goten and Gohan. "How about you two? The person who did this—he didn't harm you?"

Gohan looked at the ground guiltily.

Before he could respond, Piccolo and Krillin arrived on the scene. Krillin easily entered through the open window. Piccolo had more difficulty.

Krillin's eyes locked on the motionless figure on the bed. "Oh no, Goku!"

Piccolo narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, having finally squeezed his way through the space. "Just as I thought," Piccolo said. He walked over to Gohan and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Gohan shook his head, feeling sick. "Every time Dad dies, it's always my fault."

"Nonsense," said Piccolo. "You love your father. One thing I know about Goku is that he always chooses to die, for someone else, the fool." Piccolo smirked. "It doesn't bring him pain, because he's doing what makes him happiest, protecting people."

"It's always me," Gohan said. "He sacrificed himself to put down Raditz so that _I'd_ be safe. If I had killed Cell when I had the chance, Dad wouldn't have had to give up his life. He did it for me. Yeah, for the whole world, but mostly to save me. I could tell by the way he looked at me when he was doing it, like I meant more to him than anything else. And now…now I've killed him again." Gohan put his head in his hands, but Piccolo's sharp hearing picked up the next muffled words with no problem. "All this time, I've been protecting myself by pretending it was him I was mad at. Because—because I couldn't face who my real enemy has been the whole time—"

"That's _enough,_ Gohan!" Piccolo roared, catching everyone's attention. Amazingly, Goten simply turned over and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Piccolo grabbed Gohan by the shoulders. "This pity party has gone on long enough. I watched you grow from a sniveling, whiny brat into a fierce warrior, and I won't sit here and watch you regress to the way you were when you were four years old! Not after all you've been through. Not after all I've taught you."

Silence, and then—"It's okay, Gohan," Krillin said. "We'll just wish him back with the Dragon Balls."

"He said he won't come back because the Earth will be safer, and he thinks we don't need him anymore," Gohan said miserably.

"That's nonsense. We'll convince him to come back," Vegeta stated. "Kakarot is not allowed to die until I have surpassed him. He's not getting out of our rivalry that easily…" His gloved fists clenched, and he added, quieter, "With him gone… what's the point of getting stronger?"

Gohan struggled to collect himself. "Well, it'll take a while before we can try anyway. Dad already used the Dragon Balls not too long ago."

"That's fine, I can wait," Vegeta said. "I'll keep training down here, and surely he will be training in the Otherworld. When he comes back, we'll see who got the better training." He smirked. Then he said thoughtfully, "Or I could just meet him in Otherworld now." He started up a blast and aimed it at his own heart.

Paling, Trunks looked up at him with wide eyes.

Vegeta noticed this and sighed, making the blast disappear. "I'm only joking, Trunks."

Trunks hadn't thought it was very funny. He said nothing.

Vegeta knelt down next to Trunks. "You don't have to worry. Kakarot would've never died if it wasn't to protect his children. I too would give my life up without hesitation if it meant saving you or Bulla. But I would never end my life on purpose if it wasn't to save you. You don't have to worry about losing me."

Trunks threw his arms around Vegeta, burying his head in his chest.

Vegeta slowly patted Trunks on the back and straightened up, holding Trunks in his arms. Gohan felt some jealousy that Trunks could still hug his dad.

Without warning, Vegeta held one hand out of the window and blasted a hole in the Son's backyard.

"What are you doing?" Gohan demanded.

"Digging a grave. We can't just leave Kakarot here, can we?"

"I guess not, but…he doesn't even get a funeral? Or even a coffin? It seems wrong somehow just to stick him in a hole in the ground."

Vegeta put Trunks down next to Goten, who picked that moment, finally, to wake up. Goten blinked bleary eyes and focused on the warm body beside him. "Trunks?" he yawned.

Trunks looked down at Goten's innocent face and felt a pang. "Hey," he said limply, trying to postpone seeing tears in those black eyes as long as possible.

"Hey!" Gohan said, going over to Goten and enveloping him in a sudden hug, one that conveniently happened to keep Goten from seeing the corpse on the bed.

Confused, Goten patted his older brother on the back. "Guess you're happy to see me, huh, Gohan?"

"I sure am. And I'll also be happy if you don't look over there, okay?" Gohan jabbed his finger toward the reposed figure of their father.

"Why? What's over there?" Goten craned his head around Gohan to try to get a look.

"Nothing!" Gohan quickly turned Goten around. "Why don't you talk to our guests?"

Goten looked up, surprised. "Krillin? Mr. Piccolo? Vegeta? What are you guys doing here?" He yawned again and rubbed his eye, then smiled brightly at them.

Krillin and Piccolo exchanged wary glances, but Vegeta was the one who opened his mouth. "Well, we sensed what happened to your—"

Gohan interrupted. "They just came to visit. That's all," he said, moving in such a way that he blocked Goten from seeing Goku's body.

Trunks raised an eyebrow, wondering what Gohan was up to.

"In the middle of the night?" Goten's tone wasn't disbelieving or accusatory, just curious. His blind trust made it harder to lie to him.

Gohan bit his lip. But it was for the best, right? Knowing the news would only depress Goten, and Gohan was planning to bring Goku back before Goten would even miss him. For he'd remembered the New Namekian Dragon Balls, which as far as he knew, should be charged and ready to use. It would only take him a few days to travel there and wish his dad back.

With that in mind, hoping that his father wasn't watching right at that moment, Gohan bumped his hips into Goku's body and made him fall onto the floor.

_Thump!_ "What was that?" asked Goten, tilting his head.

"Something that Vegeta ought to take care of," Gohan said meaningfully.

"Huh?" asked Goten, but Gohan was looking up at Vegeta, inwardly pleading for him to play along.

After a moment of looking back at Gohan harshly, Vegeta sighed and went over to Goku, picking him up. Vegeta went out to the backyard and tossed Goku's body into the grave, then blasted the dirt back into the hole. He turned to leave, but then glanced back at the forlorn patch of dirt. Looking back and forth to make sure no one was looking, he quickly stuck a rock at the end and carved the name "Kakarot" on it with his blasts. Finally, he pulled up some weeds and threw them on the grave. He stood back and admired his handiwork. A gravestone and flowers, that made it fancy.

He returned, dusting his hands off, to hear Goten complaining to Gohan about being hungry. He rolled his eyes, but his eyes softened as he looked down at Trunks who still seemed pretty disturbed about the whole thing. He picked Trunks back up. "Come on, let's go downstairs and fill up our stomachs."

"Yeah, I don't think we're gonna get much sleep, so we might as well," Krillin agreed. "You want a ride too, little guy?" At Goten's eager nod, Krillin picked him up.

Piccolo put his hand on Gohan's shoulder and steered him downstairs.

When they entered the kitchen, they were surprised to see Chi-Chi already cooking.

"I was getting a start on tomorrow's dinner," she explained, eyeing the several people in her house that did not in fact reside in her house. "Unannounced company, huh? Well, I made extra," she sighed. "You guys good and hungry? I made chili."

Goten's hand shot up in the air like he was in a classroom. "I'm hungry!"

Trunks and Gohan mumbled. The truth was, Gohan's appetite was completely gone.

"Oh," Chi-Chi continued, smiling, "and I was thinking, if you're going to eat the chili now, then for dinner I could make a feast of everyone's favorite foods. Does that sound fun? I'll have spaghetti for you, Gohan, fried chicken for you, Goten, and of course, some roast beef for your father—"

Gohan looked at her, surprised. Hadn't Goku told her what was going to happen to him? "Uh, Mom, I don't think you need to make the roast beef."

"Why?" Chi-Chi scowled. "Did your father do something again so that he doesn't deserve dinner?"

"Yeah, why, Gohan?" Goten was already spooning chili into his mouth. "Dad gets hungry too, ya know."

"I don't think he'll need dinner tonight." Gohan was confused. He was _sure_ his dad had told him that he'd already broken the news to Chi-Chi, and a large part of him had been glad that he wouldn't have to be the one to do so. "Um, what did Dad tell you before he came out to spar with us?"

"Oh." Chi-Chi blushed. "He just said that he loved me, and that he thought you and Goten were strong enough now to protect me even without his help…oh, and he also said that he was sorry for all the times he'd worried me and made me angry. That father of yours can be a real charmer when he wants to be."

"Oh." Gohan swallowed. He knew it was better to get this over with sooner rather than later. "Trunks, can you and Goten go eat in the other room?"

Chi-Chi raised an eyebrow. She knew that Gohan wouldn't disregard her rule about eating at the table unless there was a good reason to send Goten away. But Goten was oblivious.

"Can we really eat in the living room? Cool! Let's go, Trunks!"

Trunks grabbed a bowl of chili despite the roiling in his stomach, and followed Goten silently.

Chi-Chi tapped her foot. "Well, Gohan?"

Better to remove the band-aid in one rip. "Mom, Dad's dead."

Chi-Chi dropped the bowl she was spooning chili into. "What?" She looked around, her eyes widening. "That's why you're all here. You were fighting with Goku against whoever killed him. Weren't you?"

"No…The virus got him again," Gohan explained.

Chi-Chi's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Goku. He probably didn't tell anybody he was hurting until it was too late, so we weren't able to visit Future Trunks and get the medicine in time." She sighed. "That man never wants anyone to worry about him."

"Actually, we did have the medicine." Gohan took a deep breath. He knew he had to tell her the whole truth. "He wouldn't take it, and he was dying from the virus, so I killed him before the virus could. I killed him so we could wish him back, since Shenron can't bring back someone who—"

Chi-Chi slapped Gohan, tears pouring down her face. "How could you." She was shaking.

Krillin quickly went to Chi-Chi and started to lead her away. "How about you rest in your room for a while, Chi-Chi? I know this is hard to handle."

Chi-Chi dropped her head in her hands and let Krillin lead her upstairs.

He tucked her into her bed and pulled down her bun, letting her hair fall free.

Chi-Chi swallowed, trying to stop crying. She hated anyone seeing her weaknesses. "Thank you, Krillin. I should've known when he said he loved me and he was sorry, that he was saying goodbye." Her voice was very small.

"Wow," he said without thinking. "You're beautiful with your hair down."

"What?"

"No-nothing!" Had he really just thought that about his dead best friend's wife? And what would Eighteen think? "Just try to get some rest. I'll finish up the food."

"You're a lifesaver, Krillin."

Krillin turned and left the room at a brisk pace that was almost a jog. What was wrong with him? He felt like he needed a bucket of ice cold water dumped on him. As he came back downstairs, he saw Gohan rubbing his cheek, still dazed.

"She didn't mean it, Gohan," Piccolo was saying. "She's just… emotional right now."

"You half-breeds may rejoin us now!" Vegeta called to the next room. "The adults aren't talking anymore."

As Trunks and Goten returned—Goten's bowl empty and Trunks's bowl barely-touched and Goten asking, eyeing the steaming, almost-full bowl of chili, if Trunks was going to eat it— Krillin went to the stove, got on his tiptoes, and stirred the chili that was still in the pot.

"What do you think _you're_ doing, short stuff?" Vegeta smirked. "You think you can cook? You won't be able to see if the food's burning. And you won't be able to smell it either!" He was referencing Krillin's odd noselessness.

Krillin stuck his tongue out. "I know about how long it's supposed to simmer. I cook all the time at Kame House!"

"I bet the stove there is shorter," Vegeta muttered.

Suddenly, Future Trunks burst in. He immediately drew his sword. "You idiots!"

"Hey! Who're you calling an idiot? _You're _the one who kicked down an unlocked door!" Krillin said.

"Who're you?" asked Trunks, staring at the taller man who shared his eye and hair color.

Future Trunks ignored them. "I _told_ you to give Goku the medicine, but you didn't! Now the guilt is going to slowly drive you and your mother insane, Gohan, and soon you'll destroy everyone! I have no choice but to stop you now."

"Now wait just one second," Vegeta said, standing in between Gohan and the sword. "Trunks, you put that down right now."

_Trunks?_ Trunks tilted his head.

"Dad," said Future Trunks, "I'm warning you. Move out of the way, right now, or I'll be forced to cut you down."

_Dad?_

"I'd like to see you try," said Vegeta, not moving.

Trunks tugged on his father's sleeve. "Dad," he said. "You said you wouldn't let yourself die, no matter what."

"You said that my mom and I turn evil," said Gohan, frowning as he addressed the time traveler. "What about Goten?"

Future Trunks looked at Gohan with a sneer. "Does this answer your question?"

He threw his sword at Goten. Trunks ran to push Goten out of the way, but Gohan got there first and dove in front of Goten. The sword sank into Gohan's gut.

"Gohan!" cried Piccolo.

"Goten, you're okay," Gohan said weakly, reaching up a hand to caress his brother's horror-stricken face. "What do you know, Dad, I guess I'll be seeing you sooner than I thought." He went limp.

Piccolo's eyes widened and he glared at Future Trunks. "You're not from the bad timeline, are you?"

"What?" Future Trunks asked.

"You're from our timeline. Goten doesn't even exist in the bad timeline. And you hesitated killing Goten because he's your best friend. And you call Vegeta 'Dad,' not 'Father.' You're just our Trunks, grown up, and you came back with your time machine. Isn't that right?"

"So what if I am?" asked Future Trunks.

"So—" Piccolo picked up the kid Trunks, his expression grim. "That means if I break this one's neck, you will have never existed, and Gohan will come back to life. Won't he?"

"Piccolo?" said Trunks, terrified.

Vegeta aimed a Big Bang Attack at Piccolo's head. "Put him down, Namek. If you hurt him, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

"Vegeta, your son killed Gohan!" Piccolo argued.

Krillin went to Gohan, lifting his torso and holding him in a half-embrace. He blinked away tears as he looked at Gohan's still face, but then his eyes widened. "Wait, you guys, Gohan's not dead!"

"What?" Piccolo asked.

"Really?" squealed Goten.

"Yeah, I feel a little energy in him still. It's faint, but he's still alive. If I get him to Dende right away, maybe there's a chance he can be healed."

"Well, if you think there's a chance he's still alive, then go to the Lookout _now,_" Piccolo ordered.

Krillin pulled the sword out of Gohan, and picked him up. "Come on, Goten, follow me."

"Hey, wait right there!" Future Trunks said, starting to go after them, but he stopped when Piccolo tightened his grip around kid Trunks's neck.

Krillin flew up to the Lookout as fast as he could, Goten following. When they arrived, Krillin laid Gohan on the floor at Dende's feet.

"Gohan!" Dende looked away. "Krillin, why did you bring me his body?"

"Quick, Dende! He's not dead! Heal him, fast, before that changes!"

Dende frowned. "Are you sure…?"

"Just do it!" Goten snapped. The shortness was unlike him, but his eyes were large with worry as he stared at his wounded brother.

Dende placed his hands on Gohan's chest, closing his eyes to concentrate. "You're right. I do feel a little bit of life. He's hanging on!" he said triumphantly, before sobering. "Okay." He got to work immediately, putting his hands over Gohan's wound. "If his heart or lungs had been pierced, he would've been a goner by now. But it was his liver that got hit. Was it a blade?"

"Yeah," Krillin answered. "A sword. Why?"

"No reason, really, except that makes it easier. This is encouraging. You see," he said conversationally, "when you get hit with those blasts, there are all those jagged edges to try to piece back together and often hunks of skin will just vaporize…but this is a clean cut, so I'll just close it up." He noticed Goten's pinched, worried face, and added, "Don't worry I've been working while I talk."

"Okay," said Goten, but he didn't look any more reassured.

Dende concentrated harder, and soon the wound was closed. "Now all I have to do is find that bit of life again and bring it up to the surface," he explained. He put his hands back on Gohan's chest and soon Gohan's breathing grew stronger and steadier. "Okay, he's about to wake up, but he'll still be weak from all the blood loss and he might be a little confused."

"Thanks, Dende!" Krillin said.

Gohan opened his eyes. He looked at Krillin first. "Krillin? Or is it Tien? What are you doing here?" Then he looked at Goten. "Dad? I'm sorry, I followed you to Otherworld. But I didn't mean to! I had to save Goten." Finally, he looked at Dende. "Piccolo, I'm so sorry. Take care of Mom and Goten for me, okay?"

Dende shook his head. "Gohan, it's me, Dende. And you're still alive."

"We brought you to the Lookout. You were almost gone there, buddy, just hanging on by a thread, but that was enough for Dende to heal you," Krillin told him.

"Huh? I'm still alive?" Gohan patted his stomach. "Thanks, Dende. Goten, you're okay? I'm sorry if I gave you a scare there." _You just lost Dad, you don't need to lose me too._ "I wasn't thinking. I just knew I couldn't let you get hurt. But from now on, I'll try not to have any more close calls like that. I don't want to leave you alone."

"Gohan!" Goten rushed and wrapped his arms around his brother, tears of joy pricking at his eyes.

"Mom! Is she okay?" Gohan asked.

"Yeah, Piccolo is controlling Future Trunks by threatening to kill Kid Trunks," Krillin said.

"What? We can't let Trunks get hurt!"

"Gohan, do you really think Vegeta is going to let Trunks die? If Vegeta really thought Trunks was in danger, Piccolo's head would be rolling around on the floor," concluded Krillin. "I think Vegeta knows Piccolo won't do it. They're both bluffing to buy time. I need to go back down there and help them."

"I'll come too," said Gohan.

"No, you stay here. You're still weak," Krillin said.

"But I have to help protect Mom."

Krillin looked at Gohan sympathetically. "I know you want to honor your dad's memory. But I was Goku's best friend, and I know he would never want me to let his sons be in danger. Just stay here and wait."

"Okay, Krillin." Gohan sighed. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Krillin flew back down to Earth.

And that was how it all started.


	2. His Acts Being Seven Ages

Chapter Two: His Acts Being Seven Ages

On the whole, if Trunks had to gauge the normality of his childhood, he would conclude that he had seen a few things more than most his age. There was the whole royal heritage and alien DNA on his father's side, and the scientific genius and fame he had inherited from his mother, but there was more than that. There was also the large, built-in group of friends that were close enough to be a family, there was the knowledge that wishes _could_ come true, there was an immediate awareness of the reality of death.

Yet tonight had been _strange,_ even by his standards. His feelings were bouncing all over the place. He had watched Gohan kill Goku, and then his father had shown him much more affection in the past half hour than in Trunks's previous eight years of life, and then some _other_ Trunks had tried to kill Goten and nearly succeeded in killing Gohan and Piccolo was holding him hostage, and—

It was all too much. Trunks felt himself fading and was consciously aware for a split-second that he was going to faint before his emotionally-exhausted body went limp in Piccolo's hand.

Vegeta clenched his teeth. "You didn't do anything to him, did you?"

"Looks like he's just scared," Piccolo grunted. He looked disgusted. "Pathetic. I would've thought you raised a tougher son than this."

"It's not my fault he chooses to spend his time with Kakarot's mentally-deficient little brat. Kakarot and his brats seem to be contagious. Even my son's not immune to it. And neither are you, Namek," Vegeta pointed out. "You have softened a great deal as a result of prolonged exposure to the big half-breed."

"He has a name." Piccolo tightened his grip on the now unconscious little Saiyan in his arms as his mind flew back to Gohan. While a part of him wanted to contest Vegeta's accusation that he'd softened, deep down he knew that it was true. And worse, an overriding part of him didn't care, was even glad of it and proud to be softer. Even the traits that Gohan placed value on had started to replace the Namekian's original motivations—namely, revenge, power, and control. Those didn't seem nearly as important now as companionship and the sheer joy he felt at watching Gohan develop and blossom.

He looked sharply at Future Trunks, who was watching them both with bridled, sullen fury, standing ramrod straight with his hands behind his back. This small measure of control was very different from the Trunks Piccolo now held; obviously, eliminating the threat of the android menace had not eradicated future problems, just altered them into different problems.

"You say that in your time, Gohan and…and _Chi-Chi_ are a threat?" Piccolo asked, thinking of the distraught woman upstairs. Even though she had her fair share of being intimidating, and at the moment she was angry and upset, he couldn't imagine her as a deadly danger.

Future Trunks looked away, his jaw clenching. "Goten too." He sounded like he had to force the words with difficulty, like stating it made him want to throw up.

Vegeta and Piccolo gave Future Trunks their undivided attention. It occurred to both of them that some major events must have happened to turn the child in Piccolo's arms, who had thoughtlessly and immediately rushed to pull Goten out of danger into the man who would just as thoughtlessly hurl a sword at Goten with the intention to kill.

"You want to give us any more details?" Vegeta demanded, crossing his arms. "Did you really expect us to let you eradicate the rest of the Son family like that?" _And what could be so bad,_ Vegeta thought, _that you would think that that was the only solution?_

Future Trunks's hands balled into tight fists. "You don't know what you're talking about! Goten's death now would be preferable to watching him become the monster that he is in my time."

It chilled Vegeta to hear his son speak of his best friend so coldly. In a way, this future was more alarming than the one with the androids. At least the androids had been a foreign threat, one that the fighters could band together to fight against. What Future Trunks was suggesting was an internal enemy, civil warfare between the Son family and the rest of the Z fighters.

Vegeta took a moment to take in his adult son's appearance. He was not dressed exactly the same way as the alternate version of Trunks had been. It didn't escape Vegeta's notice that this Future Trunks's wardrobe, rather than emphasizing Capsule Corporation, seemed to be influenced by Vegeta's own sensibilities to style, right down to the gloves and boots.

Future Trunks smirked, and Vegeta looked away quickly, angered at having been caught staring.

"You know…you told me your past self would say that," Future Trunks said softly. "But you were the one who sent me back here. This was your idea. You were so sure that this was the only way."

"What?" Vegeta stared. How could that be possible? How could he have advocated murdering Gohan, Goten, and Chi-Chi—and why had he sent Trunks to perform the deed and not gone back in time himself? Everything about the situation seemed more and more incredible and unnerving by the minute. And yet, his son was very clearly there and was not messing around, if the sword that had pierced Gohan's body was any indication.

"That doesn't matter," Piccolo grunted, interrupting Vegeta's train of thought. "Whatever happened in your timeline, we'll prevent. We won't let it reach the point where killing our own comrades is an acceptable resort."

Future Trunks just grinned crookedly, but there was no hope in his eyes. He looked defeated, despite the smile.

Krillin took that moment to drop back in on the scene. His attention was immediately drawn by kid Trunks's limp body in Piccolo's arms and he flashed a questioning look to Piccolo.

"He's just passed out," Piccolo answered the unasked question. "And Gohan?"

"Good as new," Krillin assured him, and turned to Future Trunks, his expression darkening. "Just barely, though, and no thanks to you! What were you thinking, Trunks?"

"I was thinking that an exchange of life has to happen," Future Trunks replied, almost so quietly that Krillin didn't catch it. "And that I was prepared to deal with all that that implies."

Krillin waved the cryptic words away. "I don't get all that mumbo-jumbo, but I do know that if you try to hurt Goku's kids again, you'll have me to answer to, you hear?" Krillin jabbed a thumb toward his chest. "I love those kids like they were my own. Not to brag, but I'm as good as godfather to them….Actually, with Goku gone, I guess I'm acting father 'til he gets back."

"Cute," replied Future Trunks, although, despite his disdain for the human warrior's threat against the full-blown Saiyan who clearly outmatched him, there was a measure of respect in his expression. He gazed solemnly at the three determined, tense faces around him, knowing they weren't sure whether to attack or reason.

Already, Future Trunks knew, his presence had indelibly altered the timeline. The awareness of the danger the Son family posed would now be on the fore of everyone's mind—and there was, of course, this new development of Krillin naming himself Goku's temporary replacement. The stage was indeed set for a very interesting chain of events, one that perhaps would not mirror the tragedy that had befallen them all in his time.

To himself, Future Trunks had to admit that he was more than eager to find a way to prevent bloodshed entirely. He especially didn't want to eliminate Goten. His fists clenched and his expression hardened as he thought of his ex-friend. It had been disconcerting to see him once again in his youthful, innocent state, true, but Trunks wouldn't hesitate to do what needed to be done to keep the sociopath who had reared his ugly head from appearing and hijacking the mind of the person who used to be his best friend.

"Listen up," he snapped, grabbing the adults' attention. "I'll be sticking around here for a while. I'll keep an eye on the Sons and try to prevent _anyone's_ death." He looked down for a moment, collecting himself. Then at last he offered a small smile to Vegeta with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "You wouldn't mind putting me up, would you, Dad?"

* * *

Goten watched as Gohan paced back and forth, practically tearing his hair out. He tilted his head, curious as to how Gohan could have so much energy just after nearly dying. There was so much to think about that it overwhelmed Goten's still-sleepy mind, and he stifled a yawn as he rubbed a burning eye. Mostly, he hoped Trunks was all right.

Gohan for his part felt pent-up energy bursting inside him and demanding to be released. He felt the familiar surge of the urge to transform into a Super Saiyan and suppressed it, grimacing. It wouldn't do to unleash all the power that would come with the emotion-fueled transformation on the Lookout. The concrete would be no match for the ancient, primal extraterrestrial power that flowed, simmering, in Gohan's veins.

Now Gohan knew how his mother felt whenever he and his father left her behind to challenge a villain in combat. He had not anticipated this helplessness, this frantic anxiety, the torture of not knowing. The first time Gohan had turned Super Saiyan it had been because he'd mentally tortured himself, allowing painful memories of being weak wash over him. He'd consciously focused on the guilt and grief he'd experienced when, time after time, his friends and family had fallen so that he could live, made worse by the fact that they didn't even blame him. Despite what he deserved, no one had ever treated him like a liability, like the virus that had attacked the Z fighters from the inside. He had achieved the Super Saiyan form out of sheer desperation to turn things around, be the protector instead of the protected. Even though the love of fighting was in his blood, it had been diluted by his pacifist nature. But his love for his friends had been enough to cause his potential to come crashing over him.

And now…being forced to wait again, while someone else fought his battles for him. While his mother lay vulnerable and depressed. While his father lay dead, by his hand.

Gohan felt rage building up inside him. He wanted to scream, and break every fixture on the Lookout with his bare hands. Especially that damn Hyperbolic Time Chamber, a place that only brought painful memories now. He had trained there with his father; it was there that Goku had decided that Gohan had surpassed him in strength; it was there—as early as then—that Goku had decided to misplace his faith in Gohan. Goku had been right, of course, about Gohan's strength. But he had overestimated Gohan's strategic planning, his ability to separate his emotions from the fight and step back to see the big picture. It was in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber that Goku had sealed his fate. Gohan clenched his teeth to the raw emotions surging in him once again. He knew he couldn't give in, but—god, it wasn't fair! During peacetime, the peacetime that his father had worked so hard to bring about, he, Gohan had sown the seeds of chaos and discord. Some son he was to the protector of the earth.

"Hey, Gohan?"

Gohan was jerked out of his thoughts by his brother's groggy voice. Realizing that he'd neglected his brother, he knelt down swiftly at Goten's side, giving the boy his full attention. "What is it?"

"What'd Krillin mean? When he talked about Dad's memory? And you kept sayin' something about him being in Otherworld…Were you saying that 'cause you were confused?"

Gohan froze. Goten had been more perceptive than he'd given him credit for. His large, worried eyes studied Gohan's face.

Finally, Gohan lied, "I don't remember that."

"You don't?" In Goten's face and voice was all the hope in the world that his big brother could make everything all right with the world.

Gohan didn't know what to do. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing. It seemed unnecessary to burden Goten with the news of Goku's death when he wouldn't be gone for much longer. If possible, Gohan was determined that his brother not experience the sort of pain and horror he'd had to go through as a child. So far, so good…though his stomach was queasy at the notion that he had to lie to him to give him a happy childhood. That in the Son family the only two options were blissful ignorance and a shield constructed of lies, or constant pain, fighting, carnage, and death.

Goten stretched. "Well, I don't really get it. Do you think Trunks is okay?"

And just like that, he'd changed the subject. "I think so, Goten. Piccolo wouldn't hurt him," Gohan said with confidence. That he really was sure of. The green skinned warrior was less frightening than his pointed teeth, sharp nails, and permanent scowl would indicate. It had been a long time since Gohan had even considered Piccolo dangerous, not after the huge help he had been in both Gohan's personal life and in his training, not after all the times he'd saved Gohan from certain doom, not after all the time they had spent together. Trusting Piccolo was a safe bet.

"And that tall guy with purple hair—that was Trunks too?" Goten asked, his eyebrows drawing together.

"Well…" Gohan hesitated. "Kind of. From another timeline, though."

A light patter of feet descending on the Lookout grabbed Gohan's attention. He turned to see that Krillin had returned, looking uncertain but unscathed.

In seconds, they were both at Krillin's side, hungry for details and tripping over their words in a haste to get all the questions out.

Krillin laughed. "Hey…ambushing's no fair, you two!—It didn't erupt into violence, thank Kami.—Yes, Goten, Trunks is just fine. Unconscious, but okay.—Future Trunks is staying with his family at Capsule Corp for now, and he said he'd keep tabs on you, but he doesn't seem to think killing is the only way anymore."

Gohan's mood lightened with every answer. Good, this was all good! No one was hurt, and it looked like it could stay that way.

With the excitement over, Goten wrapped an arm around Gohan's leg, stuck the thumb of his other hand into his mouth, and gave into exhaustion, soon snoring gently. Gohan looked down and felt a surge of fondness, and he picked up his brother, letting Goten's head rest on his chest. He yawned himself. With everything that had happened, he had almost forgotten it was the middle of the night.

He knew he'd better get himself rested, and not worry about anything more until the next morning when his body and mind were refreshed and able to work with maximum efficiency.

Waving a goodbye to Dende, Gohan followed Krillin back home.

* * *

Bulla blearily squeezed her eyes shut against the harsh sudden light of the refrigerator, cracking them open slowly again as they adjusted. There were lots of options for her midnight snack, but though she was hungry, nothing seemed appetizing to her. She wasn't quite in the mood for fruit, she didn't feel like making a sandwich…Mentally, she ticked off the things she wasn't going to eat, and all the while her stomach mocked her with gurgles and grumbles.

Just as she had decided on some dry cereal, bemoaning the fact that she had unnecessarily nearly burned her eyes out of her sockets, she felt a powerful presence headed straight toward the house. She immediately stiffened and focused on it, but relaxed after a moment, recognizing her father's unmistakable energy signature.

Then she frowned. She'd assumed her dad was asleep in bed. Where had he been so late? She decided to crouch behind the sofa and investigate.

She didn't have long to wait until she heard the key in the lock. The front door opened to reveal her father's figure, a bundle in his arms, and, to Bulla's surprise, another man beside him. In the darkness, it was difficult to make out features, but the ki was unfamiliar. Bulla didn't know her father had any friends.

Vegeta stumbled in the dark and muttered a curse. "Come on then, brat. There's a guest room down the hall, but don't expect any special accommodations!"

_Brat?_ Bulla wondered. She'd never heard her father address anyone except her brother with that particular insult. Then her eyes widened. _Guest room?_ Was the stranger staying with them for an extended period?

"Wouldn't expect anything less, Father," came the murmured reply, and Bulla felt a physical shock jolt through her body.

She didn't know exactly what was going on, but she was going to find out. And then she was going to call Marron. Her best friend had to know all about this illegitimate older brother. She smiled, already formulating possibilities in her head. Marron would be _so_ jealous of such a dramatic turn of events in her life. This was a gossip goldmine.


	3. A Modest Proposal

Chapter Three: A Modest Proposal

Bulla snickered and sat back on the plushy chair, as she eyed her brother. She thought that this was perhaps the most uncomfortable she'd ever seen Trunks in her life. He was avoiding the serious gaze of the older Trunks across the room and looking more and more like he wanted to sink through the floorboards. The delicious discomfort…Bulla filed this away to add to her notebook of _Ways I Will Eventually Kill Trunks_ that she kept. Number 361: Utter Embarrassment.

"So, apparently things have gone wrong in the future again, and once again, my son has taken it upon his shoulders to make things right," Vegeta was explaining.

Bulla's mother, Bulma, nodded as if all this made perfect and unsurprising sense. She was sitting on the floor with her knees bent and her arms wrapped around her legs, rocking slightly as she stared up at the future version of her son.

Future Trunks blushed under the scrutiny. "Can I help you?" Bulla recognized the brash tone and cadence of her brother's discomfort in the alien, deeper stranger's voice, and she raised a brow.

Bulma grinned. "I can't help it! It's not every day a mom gets a sneak peek at what her baby's gonna look like! I mean, I got a preview before, but I guess that doesn't really count since it wasn't the Trunks of this timeline. I gotta say, you grew into quite a looker! Even more of a stud than when androids killed everybody, that's for sure," she told him enthusiastically with a wink.

"_Mom!_" kid Trunks complained.

Bulla glanced at him. She'd been wondering if he'd ever speak up.

"Is that really appropriate?" Future Trunks said gruffly.

Bulma put her hands on her hips. "Well, excuse me for complimenting my only son! I can't help it that you're the striking image of the man I married…with some improvements from my side of the family, of course!"

Deciding to save her brother from the heart attack he seemed to be on the verge of experiencing and her…future brother from the conniptions that threatened to overtake him, Bulla cut in, "What about me? Why didn't my future self come back from the past too?"

"That's right; good question," Bulma said, nodding to her daughter. "Why you, Trunks? I mean, in the other timeline, there wasn't anyone else left to come back. You'd think with everyone alive…"

"_Is_ everyone alive, boy?" Vegeta snapped, fixing Future Trunks with a deathly glare. "Or is there something you haven't told us?"

Future Trunks pinched the bridge of his nose. "There's lots I haven't had the chance to tell you, Dad. And no, not everyone's alive. For one, Goku never came back—"

"_What?_" Bulla screeched before she could stop herself. She was surprised by the primal sound that had escaped her throat, but she had been thoroughly shocked. Goku was the one person she didn't expect to fall. He was strong, stronger even than her dad, though she hated to admit it.

Vegeta nodded solemnly, his jaw clenching. "Kakarot was killed last night."

Bulla felt her jaw, contrary to her father's, slacken and drop, and she could see that her mother had an identical expression. She turned to gauge Trunks's reaction to the news—to find that his face hadn't changed a bit. Not even so much as a flinch.

How could that be? "Didn't you hear him, Trunks?" Bulla gasped breathlessly, her amusement forgotten. "That's Goten's dad!"

Now Trunks really did flinch. "You don't have to remind me of that."

Bulla's stomach twisted. She felt dizzy and gripped the arms of her chair, glad to be sitting.

Bulma found her voice. Though it was shaking, she managed to ask, "What happened to him?"

Future Trunks and Vegeta exchanged glances, as if trying to silently decide between the two of them how to relay the news as delicately as possible.

Before either could make a move to answer, though, kid Trunks blurted out, "Gohan killed him! I was there. I saw the whole thing." A shiver ran through Trunks's body, and the knot in Bulla's stomach tightened. "It happened, and it sucked, but can we please stop talking about it?"

Bulma stood and crossed to the sofa Trunks was perched on. She sat beside him and scooped him into her arms, and for once, he didn't protest.

"Goku's death was the entire catalyst for the future I'm trying to prevent," Future Trunks said coldly, in stark contrast to his shaken former self. "Gohan's decided to keep it a secret from Goten for now, and that's probably for the best. Goten…was the worst affected of the surviving Sons."

Trunks turned sharply to his future self, his misery momentarily forgotten. "What happened to Goten?"

Future Trunks shook his head. "There's no need to go into detail. It's not going to happen. But Bulla, as for your question—why you didn't come with me. Let's just say you and I are on opposite sides of a civil war." He looked at her with such serious blue eyes. "It came down to choosing between me and Goten. You picked Goten. Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill me."

Bulla's eyebrows rose so high they disappeared behind her bangs. Kill him? _Actually_ kill her brother? She knew she kept that notebook of potential ways to kill Trunks, but she'd never really enact any of those plans.

Bulma frowned. "Is that so? Well, young lady, just know right now that attempting to kill your brother is going to get you _seriously_ grounded."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Bulla laughed. It all seemed so _absurd._ "I'll keep that in mind, Mom."

Future Trunks quieted, watching the lighthearted banter of the Briefs family unit of this timeline, the underlying close bond threading them all together. His shoulders relaxed, his tense muscles loosening. He had almost forgotten this. Through all the talk of prevention and desperate measures and revenge, he had lost sight of what he was fighting _for._

He stood abruptly. "I'm going to go train in the gravity chamber. No such thing as being too prepared, right?"

Vegeta smirked. "So that did finally catch on. Seems my son won't always be a lazy lie-about."

Future Trunks's hard expression didn't waver. He ignored his father and headed straight for the Capsule Corporation's specialized training room without so much as a request for permission.

Bulma craned her head, looking after him. "Well, okay, but don't work _all_ the time like your dad! All work and no play makes Trunks a dull boy!" Her words appeared to fall on deaf ears, as Future Trunks's pace didn't even falter. "Hey! I'll bring you some snacks later, okay?"

Future Trunks made it to the entrance of the chamber and ripped off his glove, placing his palm on the sensor. His DNA was identified and the doors slid open. He stepped inside without a glance at his mother or any indication he'd even heard her.

Bulma sighed and shook her head. "He certainly has more of you in him than the other timeline's version did, Vegeta. Though," she added thoughtfully, "his attitude is similar. So driven and sad."

"I suppose that's simply the way Trunks reacts to trauma," Vegeta replied. "Whether it be at the hands of the androids or the hands of the Son family."

Trunks looked from one parent to the other. They were talking about him like he wasn't even there. Well, not really _him_ him, but still—! He stood up, the room suddenly feeling too enclosed. He had to get far, far away from that stranger with his face who had tried to kill Goten. He just felt sick, shaky, and overwhelmed—not at all as a young prince should. For once, he was unsure of himself, which was most un-Trunkslike.

But seeing this other "Trunks" made it impossible for him to be sure of himself anymore.

"I'm gonna go visit Goten," he announced quickly, hoping his voice didn't come across as panicky.

From the disapproving scowl on his father's face, he suspected he hadn't hidden his feelings too well.

But his mother said, "That's a good idea. Poor dear could use some company after what just happened." She smiled at him. "You're a good friend, Trunks."

Trunks gave a jerky nod, feeling even worse. The fact that Goten had just lost his father hadn't even crossed his self-centered mind.

"I'm coming too," Bulla said, walking up beside him. She winked. "Don't worry. I have no plans to kill you."

_Yet._

They were all thinking it. Future Trunks's warnings lay pregnant, hanging heavily in the air above them, pressing down like a literal oppressive weight.

How was it that the man separated from them now by a wall of metal, fiercely training and probably heating up the room he was in, had managed to seem very present among them, and had made the air in his wake seem cold?

Bulma broke the spell. "Have fun!"

* * *

Though Gohan had managed to remain asleep the whole night long, his rest had not been peaceful. Blearily, he trudged to the bathroom and inspected his face in the mirror. His skin was pale, which only served to emphasize the prominent bluish-purple circles, like bruises, under his eyes.

_I look terrible,_ Gohan admitted to himself miserably. _Like…_

And he didn't want to complete that thought, but it had begun. There was nothing to be done now.

_Like death._

_Way to go, subconscious,_ Gohan thought snidely. _The absolute last thing I wanted to think about._

He turned the sink faucet and scooped some water into his hands, splashing it into his face. The water dripped from his hair and down his cheeks like tears, but Gohan's eyes remained surprisingly dry. There were no tears. There was only emptiness.

For the first time, he, Gohan had—

_No._ Gohan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to tell himself that it was because the water was stinging them. He couldn't pursue this train of thought; he certainly couldn't. Everything was going to be okay—

_Dad always said. _He stumbled back from the sink, not heeding the rushing water tumbling, unused, down the drain. He couldn't hear it over the rushing in his ears. His head was pounding. He shook his head, to no avail. The thoughts continued to plague him, each one the vicious sting of a wasp.

_Dad always made me feel like everything was going to be okay…_

_ Where is Dad now?_

His vision swam. He gripped his face so hard that it was almost as if he was trying to rip it right off of his skull. For an insane moment, he wanted to do just that, and not to stop there. He wanted to tear all the flesh off his bones, destroy himself until there was nothing left but a lump of messy flesh on the floor.

Because that's all he was. A mess. A useless lump. And now, now, for the first time—

_No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no…_

He'd directly murdered his father.

A low moan escaped his lips.

His mother had looked at him like a monster, and why not? He was the one who had taken the love of her life away, who had always taken him away. And though he had always tried so hard to protect Goten, it had never occurred to him that the one Goten needed protecting _from_ was, well…

_Thump._ The sound of Goku's lifeless body hitting the cold floor as Gohan desperately tried to hide his bloody crime.

_Thump._ The sound of Goku's final heartbeat right before Gohan had murdered him. Gohan felt his own heart lurching painfully. His face heated up and the liquid running down his face felt like hot blood. He could clearly remember the steady pulsing beneath his palm, the warm source of pure love, and honor, and courage that his father had always possessed. The source of his very life had laid, so trustingly, so innocent and vulnerable, right underneath Gohan's hand. And with one rash decision, Gohan had snuffed out that life.

_Thump._ The sound of Gohan's sanity as it shattered and fell in pieces to the floor at Gohan's feet.

And still, there were no tears, just the sound of running water, and the boy hunched in the corner of the bathroom with skin as pale as death and hollow eyes.

* * *

Goten hopped from one foot to the other in his impatience. He knew Mom didn't like him to go down for breakfast without washing his face, but Gohan was taking _so long_ in there. He didn't usually take that long, and Goten was about to pound on the door and complain, but then he remembered Gohan's close scrape with death last night. Maybe he was still weakened from that? Goten reluctantly withdrew his fist, but that didn't stop him from being frustrated.

The smell of breakfast was wafting upstairs and Goten's stomach growled in response. He glanced at the closed bathroom door. The tap still seemed to be running. Goten reasoned that since it had been so long that usually he would have been washed and downstairs by then, his mother probably wouldn't notice if he skipped washing just this once!

Grinning, he zipped down the stairs and barreled into the kitchen. "Hi, Mom! What's for—" He cried out in shock, the end of his question dying in his throat.

Krillin spun around and screamed in response to Goten's shrill cry.

Goten had flown about eight feet in the air and was clinging to the light fixture. "_Krillin?_ You're not Mom!"

Krillin looked himself over and then chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "I guess not, last time I checked."

Goten slowly descended to the ground, calming down. "Sorry, Krillin. It's just—you weren't who I was expecting." But Goten's questions all melted away as he looked around at the spread before him. Juicy, sizzling ham, fluffly scrambled eggs, soft buttered rolls…it took every ounce of control Goten had to not start drooling there on the spot. "I'm hungry!"

"Well, you've come to the right place." Krillin grabbed a plate and heaped a Saiyan's share of food onto it while Goten's eyes gleamed. "There ya go!"

"Thank you!" Goten ripped into the food immediately and in record time had his plate licked clean and was back requesting a second helping.

Krillin shook his head. He was glad he'd made so much food. He knew enough to do so by now. He'd been best friends with Goku since childhood. His mood darkened. _Goku…_

As Goten worked on his fifth serving, light footsteps sounded on the stairs. Krillin turned to see one satin shoe emerge from the stairway. Then, out of the shadows, the entirety of the woman became visible.

Chi-Chi's posture was slumped, her hair pulled up into a messy bun. The haphazard appearance seemed to humanize her, much more so than the prim and proper façade she usually insisted on projecting. She didn't appear to have the energy to masquerade now.

She froze as she saw Krillin, then let out a breath that she must have been holding. Her eyes dulled, her body relaxing. "Krillin."

"He made us food today! It's really good!" Goten told her enthusiastically as he polished off his current plate. "I'm all done, though. You and Dad and Gohan are being slowpokes today!"

Chi-Chi's eyes widened and she stiffened. But all she said was "Well, if you're through, go get dressed."

"Mm hm!" Goten deposited his empty plate into the kitchen sink and scampered back upstairs.

Which left the kitchen in an uneasy silence. Chi-Chi's coal-black eyes, already usually guarded, seemed blank and expressionless. There was no smile of greeting on her face, nor anger, nor distaste. Krillin was disturbed. This was the first time that he'd ever seen _absolutely_ nothing in Chi-Chi's expression, no telltale glint or fire in her eyes, no little quirk of her lips, or twist of her nose, or crease between her eyebrows, or wrinkles on her forehead or chin. She was totally unreadable.

It was almost as if Goku wasn't the only one to die last night.

"You hungry?" Krillin asked, running a hand through his newly-grown patch of hair. "I could fix you a plate."

"I didn't ask for your help." Chi-Chi's voice lacked inflection, but that made it all the more chilling. "I didn't give you permission to stay the night."

Krillin smiled, trying to disarm her. "Well, with everything that's happened, I just thought it might be better for you to have a Z fighter in the house with you. Safer. I care about the kids…" He trailed off, unsure of how to complete the thought.

"You're not—" She flinched, her breath hitching. "You're not Goku."

Krillin bowed his head, surprised by an unwelcome flash of resentment at her words. He briefly shook his head to clear it. "I've heard that ever since we were both students under Master Roshi," he told her steadily. He frowned. When he'd opened his mouth, that wasn't what he'd expected to come out. But now it was done. "I know that by now."

Chi-Chi sat down at the table and looked away, out the window. Through the panes, clear blue skies were visible, and a magnolia tree, its leaves fluttering ever so slightly in a gentle breeze. But it looked like Chi-Chi's gaze went even farther away, to some place darker and stormier.

"I've lost Goku before," she said.

"But this time you've lost Gohan too," Krillin returned without thinking. Immediately, he cursed himself. What a stupid thing to say! As if he could presume to tell Chi-Chi what she was feeling. But he had caught her interest, or at least, she'd turned her head his way. He had to say something more. "And you've lost the one thing you thought was always secure, your trust in your family. Something that you formed your entire identity around." Krillin was babbling now, but as he said these things, he became more and more aware of their truth. "Last night, you lost yourself too."

Chi-Chi abruptly stood, so quickly that her chair clattered to the floor. She didn't seem to notice. "You don't know anything about this!"

Krillin felt himself getting angry. He wasn't sure if he was angry at _her,_ but it was a feeling he couldn't repress, and right now, she was the only person around. "Maybe I know more than everyone gives me credit for! And maybe…maybe you're afraid to admit it."

"You think I have any reason to be _afraid_ of you? You think anyone has any reason to be afraid of you?" Chi-Chi's face was hovering somewhere between pain and rage, but she didn't seem to be able to quite decide which. "You, whose most useful contribution against Frieza was getting killed and unblocking the Super Saiyan technique from Goku's mind—"

"That's _enough!_" Krillin gritted his teeth and grabbed her by the arms.

"_You,_" Chi-Chi continued hysterically, her voice almost a shriek, "who was so desperate to be loved that you latched onto a machine! A manmade construct of metal and bolts. Who is only not killing you because she has faulty programming—!"

"I said enough!" Krillin roared. He was gripping her so tightly that he was sure he would leave bruises on her skin, and somewhere deep inside a part of him protested, but he was too furious to pay that part of him any mind. "If you'll recall, _ma'am,_ the only reason Goku didn't kill _you_ is because his original programming got knocked out of him with a bump on the head. You of all people should know the value of getting a few wires crossed."

"Don't talk about him that way," she whispered.

"That's it, isn't it?" Krillin finally released her in disgust, walking back to the stove. "You don't want to be told the truth. You just want a bunch of comforting lies. Because you can't face what happened. No—because you can't face the fact that you can't face what happened."

Chi-Chi unsteadily leaned down and righted the chair she had unsettled. Anything to give her hands something to do. Anything to occupy her mind. Anything to stop her from exploding. She focused on straightening the chair so it would exactly match the one opposite of it.

Krillin watched her, and though he knew she was hurting, he was feeling uncharitable. He came out and said it. "Goku's dead."

Chi-Chi's back was to him. She pretended like she hadn't heard. He knew she had.

"The man of your household isn't here anymore. Right now, you need that void filled. I know you didn't ask for my help, but you needed it, so I gave it without being asked. Because Goku was my best friend, and that's what friends do." He turned back to the food and poked at the ham with the spatula. "I'm staying, you know. Until you're ready to transition to a life without Goku."

"I forbid it." Chi-Chi's voice was firm, cold. "I want you out of here."

Krillin didn't turn. "I don't care."

"It's _my_ house!"

"It's Goku's house," Krillin retorted.

"No, it's _mine._ _I_ bought it."

"With Daddy's money?" Krillin asked bitterly.

Chi-Chi spun around and marched to where Krillin stood. She was on the verge of hot, angry tears that she refused to shed. "Do you think you know what's best for me and the boys just because you were Goku's friend?"

"I just know what's best for me," answered Krillin calmly, turning to look her in the eye. "I know it's best for me not to leave Goku's children after such a traumatizing event just happened in their lives. I know it's best for me not to let you turn into whatever Future Trunks was afraid you would. I won't leave you to mourn alone, Chi-Chi. We would've both done our grieving separately anyway, right? For both of us, a big part of our life is gone. What's the use of being apart and feeling the same way, when we could commiserate? When we could find strength from each other? Chi-Chi—" He reached up and turned her face back towards his, his voice softening. "You're alone so often, aren't you? In worry, in stress, in sorrow, in grief. We all tend to forget about you, and I'm sorry. You're so proud. But you don't have to bear this burden alone. I'm going to help you whether you let me or not, but if you let me…maybe we can do this a little less painlessly."

Somewhere inside, a dam burst inside Chi-Chi, and she could no longer contain the floodgates. She collapsed, her body wracking with sobs.

And he held her, thinking of Eighteen and Marron, and Gohan and Goten, and Goku, and finally this warm, shaking woman, so broken and helpless in his arms, and—oh god.

Nothing good could come of this.


	4. The Timelines Converge

Chapter Four: The Timelines Converge

As he adjusted the controls in the gravity chamber, the adult Trunks felt his muscles straining and sweat beginning to bead on his skin. That was what he loved about training under the pressure of increased gravity—every minute was a workout on his body, even when he wasn't moving. He smirked, still unsure of how healthy it was to train in an environment in which your every breath was labored, in which standing still was painful but moving was even more painful. But despite the questionable validity of this kind of training, Trunks liked it. He'd missed it.

He probably got it from his father. Vegeta had always been so obsessed with surpassing the low-born but undeniably effortlessly stronger Goku that he had intensified his rigid physical regimen, not caring how it hurt. Trunks had no rival, but he still had the burning in his blood to push himself to his limits and become the strongest he could possibly be through whatever means necessary.

He shifted his gaze toward the equipment, assessing the helpful tools coolly. Which one should he use first? The punching bag was simple and juvenile, but it seemed appealing to him. It would serve his purposes. Without warning, he launched his body at the firm punching bag and slammed his fist hard enough in its surface to leave a dent.

_Goten's face._

Trunks's eyes widened and he found himself breathing heavily, more heavily than the exercise warranted. The memories swam before him despite himself. He had imagined punching Goten's face, and— He gravely surveyed the damage he had done to the bag. The chain affixing it to the ceiling was strained and damaged, and there was a clear mark of Trunks's strike that was nearly a puncture. If Trunks had really leveled that kind of force at Goten, it would have fractured his skull or smashed his nose in. It very well could have killed him.

Remembering the wide-eyed seven-year-old Goten of this time, Trunks found himself shaking. He wasn't sure why.

The little face, full of concern and love for his big brother who'd been impaled, seemed to morph into an older, thinner face with darker circles under its eyes and a crueler glint to the eyes.

_"But we're still best friends, aren't we?"_

_ Goten rubbed his chin, giving a perfect impression of thinking over the question Trunks had asked him. But Trunks knew Goten well enough to know when he'd already made up his mind. This toying with people, this use of sarcasm, was most unlike the Goten he knew. It was frightening._

_ "Were we ever?" Goten's reply was soft. Never outright accusing, he was too sleek, too debonair for that. His voice wound around Trunks like suffocating silk._

_ Trunks shook his head to clear it. He had always secretly—or not so secretly—prided himself on being smarter than his friend, but now he suspected that Goten was playing mind games with him. And Trunks was flailing helplessly in the sea of deception, not knowing the rules. Before, Goten would have thrown him a life preserver. Now, no mercy seemed forthcoming. Now, for the first time, Trunks knew what it was like to be on his own._

_ "Of course we're friends! You know that!" he returned fiercely. That was something he could cling to, at least. That, if nothing else._

_ "There are so few things we can trust in this world," Goten murmured, seemingly to himself. He trailed his fingers lightly against the railing as he descended the stairs to where Trunks stood, perplexed. "I trusted my brother wasn't a murderer. I trusted that my dad loved this family. Wrong on both accounts." He chuckled, a humorless sound. Trunks shivered._

_ "Well, that's why I came—"_

_ "Because you got caught in your lies? Because you want to rush to gain my forgiveness now that you've been found out?" Goten openly glared at Trunks for the first time. Trunks took a step back. He'd never seen such loathing in those coal-black eyes, such complete, intense hatred—aimed at him. Aimed at him!_

_ Trunks held up two hands as if in defense against blows. "Now, listen, man—"_

_ "That's all I ever do, isn't it? Listen. Listen to those who won't bother to listen to me," Goten spat. "You expect me to just let you walk all over me again. Forgive you without a second thought because that's all poor, stupid Goten knows how to do, right? Why wouldn't anyone just tell me the truth? Even you, Trunks. Even the people I was supposed to trust the most. I was the baby? I just couldn't handle it?"_

_ Overwhelmed, Trunks couldn't find his voice for a long moment. Where had this bitterness come from? How long had it been building? In his shock, he couldn't process every barb Goten had thrown, but they had all hit the mark with painful accuracy. Knowing it was insufficient, he managed to stutter, "I—we—we just didn't want to hurt you."_

_ A thick silence overtook the room. Goten finished descending the stairs, each footfall noiseless, never taking his eyes off of Trunks for a second._

_ Very deliberately, and almost pleasantly, Goten said, to break the silence, "If you don't turn around and walk out that door right now, I'm going to kill you."_

Trunks jolted himself back into the present—past? This time traveling thing was so confusing sometimes. Anyway, he couldn't afford to think about his past, and everyone else's hopefully preventable future. He had to keep a strong body and a steady head. His father had told him so.

Right on cue, the door slid open and Trunks turned his head to see his father entering the chamber. It was still a shock to see him without the scar on his face that Gohan had given him. It was lucky he'd escaped that fight at all, and with only one scar to show for it.

"May I join you?" Vegeta asked gruffly, not looking his son in the eye.

Trunks sighed inwardly, sure that this was a ploy for a questioning session, but he simply gave a curt nod and turned his attention back to the punching bag.

"You did quite a number on that thing," Vegeta commented. His tone didn't give away whether he was aggravated or impressed. Trunks chose to ignore it.

This seemed to suit Vegeta fine. While Trunks hammered away at the hapless punching back, Vegeta made a beeline for the weights. For some time, there was no communication in the room, just the shared camaraderie of grunts and the repetitive thuds and clangs from their respective training tools of choice.

Finally, Trunks could contain himself no longer, looking over at his father who was still benchpressing mammoth amounts of weight, adding a bit more at a time. "It's not all about strength, you know."

Vegeta grunted, but didn't slow down his workout. He gave no sign of having heard Trunks, and Trunks was ready to turn back to what he was doing when Vegeta finally responded, "It's not all about fear either, boy."

"Fear?" Trunks turned to gape at his father, utterly offended. Did he exude vibes of fear, he, who had survived the person he trusted most in the world turning against him with murderous vengeance? He, who had ventured back in time alone with so many fates on his shoulders? He, the rightful crown prince of the Saiyan race?

"Why the nonstop training if not out of worry for the future? Why the aversion to speaking to the people you used to love? Fear you'll lose them? Fear you'll fail them?" Vegeta smirked. "The fear of failure is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Your overpreparation will run you into the ground. Confidence is the only way to win a battle. Or didn't you know that? That's why I focus on strength. My mindset is optimal for winning. I just need my body to match it."

This philosophy—it was different from the one the Vegeta of his own time held. But he didn't mention that. Instead, he simply replied, "Strategy's important too."

"And you think hitting that unmoving, unresponsive dummy will help you form a strategy applicable to the real world? Give me a break. I would've thought my own son would know better," Vegeta taunted.

Trunks stared at the nearly-spent punching bag. Maybe he needed to hit something unresponsive. Something that wasn't Goten. And maybe…maybe this was necessary preparation. For if he'd have to hit someone so hard they stopped moving. Altogether.

He said nothing and walked over to the mats to do some push-ups and sit-ups. Vegeta didn't bother him anymore. Trunks liked it that way. He wasn't sure what to think about the words that were so opposite to his father's words in another time, in another place.

He wasn't sure what to think about the fact that this version of his father, who barely knew him and knew little about his situation, seemed to know him inside and out. And seemed to be exactly right.

* * *

All he saw was a flash of black, orange, and blue before he felt a thud of a tiny body colliding with his. "Hey, Goten," Trunks said breathlessly, knowing at once who it was before even being able to see him. He smiled and laid his hand on the smaller boy's head.

Bulla snickered, amused. "It's like Goten's a linebacker and you're the football."

"I was so bored, Trunks! I'm glad you're here. Krillin came over, and I thought that'd be fun, but I think he and Mom are having adult talk, and Gohan won't come out of the bathroom, and Dad hasn't even come out of his room yet!" The words spilled out of Goten's mouth with little rhyme or reason, but Trunks had no trouble following the chatter. Or seeing the subtext that he knew Goten was unaware of. So they still hadn't told him about Goku, huh?

Bulla's eyebrows rose. She opened her mouth, but Trunks clapped his hand over it quickly. Bulla glared, and Trunks shook his head frantically, trying to make her see that breaking the news like this would be a bad idea. Goten would be hurt that both Bulla and Trunks knew, but that his mother and brother had both lied to him about it. Besides, there was a probably a reason for the secrecy. It wasn't really their place to interfere with the Sons' affairs, Trunks reasoned to himself. He still felt a sick, uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

Bulla licked Trunks's hand, and Trunks yanked his hand from her mouth with an exclamation of disgust, wiping his wet hand on his trousers. She grinned at him with her missing front teeth, but said nothing. Thankfully.

Goten looked from one to the other. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," Trunks said quickly, averting his eyes from Goten's. A thought occurred to him. "You said your brother was in the bathroom?"

Goten nodded. "Mm hm! I don't know what he's doing in there. Maybe something he ate made him sick."

"Maybe that sword in his stomach made him sick," Trunks muttered without thinking. Then, seeing Goten's blanching face, he realized how insensitive that was. He started to apologize, then thought better of it. He crossed his arms like he saw his father do sometimes. "Well, what are you looking like that for? You can handle the truth, can't you? Don't be such a wuss."

Bulla put her hands on her hips. "That's right, Goten. If your brother's fine now, there's no need to give so much weight to the past."

Goten shuffled his feet. "I was really worried about Gohan."

"You guys keep each other company," Trunks said brusquely. "I need to go in and talk with Gohan for a minute, okay?"

Bulla and Goten both looked at him in surprise.

"But…" Goten began.

"You _hate_ Gohan," Bulla interrupted promptly, eyeing Trunks with her shrewd gaze.

Trunks squirmed. "That's a strong word." And, honestly, it had never been apt. Trunks had found Gohan annoying, a bit of a nerd, irresponsible when it came to balancing his relationship with his daughter and girlfriend and his relationship with his parents and brother…they'd had their issues, but in his heart of hearts, Trunks didn't _hate_ the guy. He wasn't sure he could still say that after last night. How _did_ he feel about the Gohan who had taken Goten's father away from him and then lied about it, the Gohan who had tried to coerce him, Trunks, into performing the dirty deed and had forced him to be a witness and remain silent about his knowledge to his best friend? Trunks was between a rock and a hard place—tell Goten the truth and break his heart, or lie to his face and break his trust?

It wasn't a situation Trunks could figure out on his own. At the very least, he had to confront Gohan about it. He wasn't quite sure what he would say. He had to trust that the words would come as they were needed.

Leaving Bulla and Goten to converse in the yard, he went inside the Son house. Low murmurs were coming from the living room area, and Trunks began to turn there, but he stopped when he recognized that though there were two ki signatures, neither of them belonged to Gohan.

Krillin and Chi-Chi, he realized. Weird. They seemed to be in deep conversation, though, and he'd leave them to it. His business was with the other person in the house. He took a deep breath and started the climb up the stairs. Now that he was focused, he could sense the elder Son's presence, like the prize at the end of the finish line. The prize...or the punishment. Every step took him closer to the uncertainty, and he was both eager for the suspense to be over and dreading what he'd find at the top of the staircase.

He finally ascended and peeked into Gohan's room, where he'd slept last night. The scene of the crime. He shuddered, not able to help his mind from drifting there.

Gohan's back was rimrod straight. He was sitting on the edge of his bed with his back to the door. Trunks noticed that he was fully dressed, but beyond that he couldn't discern anything. He was just about to lose his nerve and retreat when Gohan, without turning, said, "Come in."

Trunks found that he was helpless to do anything but obey. He stepped inside the dark room, which had somehow had a lighter atmosphere in the pitch black of night when they had all squeezed into the bed together—Gohan, Goku, Goten, and him. Good friends could banish any darkness.

Gohan turned to look at him at last. Trunks was surprised to see some stubble on his chin. He was usually perfectly clean-shaven whenever Trunks saw him, so it was easy to forget that Gohan even grew facial hair.

"I suppose you want to talk about last night." Gohan's voice was heavy, like his eyelids. He didn't look or sound like himself.

Trunks shifted. _Not really. Not if I can help it._ "Shouldn't you talk with Goten about it first?"

Gohan looked surprised, but the expression was a fleeting one. "Direct. I always admired that about you, Trunks."

Even though he was being complimented, the comment seemed _wrong._ Everything about this seemed wrong. Trunks suddenly felt that coming here alone to speak to Gohan had been a terrible mistake. He didn't want to admit that he was afraid, even to himself, but—he'd never seen anyone kill before. The last person he ever would have expected to change that had been Gohan.

"I went to the Lookout. Just got back, actually," Gohan continued conversationally. If he noticed Trunks's discomfort, he said nothing about it. "I was seeking Dende's advice about the Namekian Dragon Balls."

Trunks started. The Dragon Balls? "To wish your dad back?" he asked, confused. Then why had Gohan killed him in the first place?

Gohan nodded in confirmation. "But they were used. Just last night." Gohan clenched his fists. "All three wishes—and I only needed one of them. I might have been able to use them if I hadn't given in to my fatigue last night. There are some things more important than sleep." Gohan looked utterly disgusted with himself.

"So you won't be able to bring him back after all?" Trunks ventured carefully.

"Not for a Namekian year. Four months, our time," Gohan said. His eyes slid over to study Trunks. "I thought I was getting Dad back in a matter of days. Now to find out that he'll be gone for months instead—it shouldn't make a difference. But it's like I've lost him all over again."

Unexpectedly, Trunks felt a strong pang of pity for the man—boy? He really was just a boy. He looked so harried and helpless and lost. He was trying to figure things out, and he had no one to help him. His mother was furious at him, and his brother was young and ignorant of all this…

"Maybe you should talk to Videl about it?" Trunks suggested.

Gohan seemed amused. He shook his head. "Us making a mistake once when I was at the lowest point of my life doesn't mean she wants to be involved with every crisis I get myself into."

Trunks bristled. "Pan isn't a mistake."

Gohan sobered. "No, she isn't. She's the one good thing that came out of our mistake."

This pacified Trunks. He sighed. "What'd the Namekian Dragon Balls get used for last night, anyway?"

Gohan scoffed. "Mr. Popo used them. Gave the Lookout a Jacuzzi, a swimming pool, and a golf course." He listed the features with difficulty. "Because it's peacetime, and he figured we weren't using them and they shouldn't go to waste. Figures something like this would happen…Serves us right for being too—" He paused, and then in a strangled voice that almost sounded like a bitter laugh, he completed his sentence, "—complacent."

Trunks thought that the new and improved Lookout sounded like it would be a fun place to play. He immediately felt guilty for the thought. "Well, if it's going to be four months instead of a few days, don't you think you ought to tell Goten?"

Gohan shook his head vehemently. An actual expression took root in his face. He was afraid. "I can't! Let's just…let's just keep him in the dark a while longer."

"But—"

"Please, Trunks. I couldn't bear it." He closed his eyes against the pain, but forced the rest out. "I couldn't bear it if he hated me, too."

Trunks bit his lip. "What are you going to tell him when he asks where his dad is?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Please, Trunks," Gohan said again.

Trunks sighed. He knew he was going to regret this. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was unfair. He knew he was being a bad and untrustworthy friend. But looking into Gohan's haunted eyes, all he could say was, "Okay."


	5. Not With a Bang, But a Whimper

Chapter Five: Not With a Bang, But a Whimper

Gohan woke up every day thinking that it was just a horrible, horrible nightmare, and that this would be the morning when the facts would be different. When the cosmos would rearrange themselves and right the natural order of things. A world with his father dead, by his hand, just seemed like a cruel practical joke. He half-expected his father to jump out of concealment with his smile bright as always, and reassure Gohan that he'd just been kidding, that he hadn't really gone anywhere and never would.

Of course, Gohan was continually disappointed. This wasn't a dream, and it wasn't a joke. It was reality. It was his life now. A tragedy of his own doing, penned by his own hand. Honestly, he didn't know how to deal with it. Every misfortune he'd ever encountered had always come about as the result of some outside force. That had made it easier to keep his chin up. He'd always been very adept at struggling through and overcoming adversary, but not when the enemy was _himself_. Like the internal virus that had finally ironically been the one to claim his father's life, Gohan felt like a blight, a sickness on the Son family.

He blearily checked the calendar hanging on his wall. It had been nearly two weeks since that night. _Two weeks…not nearly long enough._ The time seemed to crawl by. He didn't know how he was going to stay sane for four months. And Krillin was still there. He scratched his head, a bit puzzled. He hadn't given much thought to the human warrior's presence, but it was slowly occurring to him to question it. After all, Krillin had a wife and daughter of his own to attend to…

_But then again,_ thought Gohan guiltily, _so do I._ Well, he hadn't married Videl, but…

He sighed and pulled on his clothes. It was past noon, and while his mopey mood would have allowed him to stay in bed all day, his growling stomach wouldn't let him go through with that plan. Besides, he was doing a poor job of keeping the charade up for Goten's sake; innocent though his brother may have been, he wasn't stupid. By now, he probably knew something was up. Hopefully, Trunks had been keeping him occupied.

Gohan finished dressing and raked a comb haphazardly through his bedhead. After a few attempts to tame the wild mass, he resigned himself to a bad hair day. His appearance wasn't holding much interest for him, anyway.

He trudged downstairs and checked the kitchen to see if his mother had saved him a plate from breakfast or lunch. He wasn't surprised to see that she hadn't. She hadn't done anything like that, or even paid him much mind, since that night, and he couldn't blame her. He could take this as an indication that she was still mad at him, because she wouldn't talk to him. Often, he thought he would prefer for her just to let loose and scream at him, get it all out of her system so they could move on. Goku's absence was hard on all of them, but it wasn't as if he would be gone forever. It was little consolation for the present, but Gohan tried to keep it firmly in mind. It was all he could hold onto.

"Gohan! You're _finally_ out of your room!"

Gohan turned his head to see Goten waving from the living room, surrounded by the kids who called themselves the 'Partial Club'—the half-saiyans Trunks, Bulla, and Valese, the half-android Marron, and the fourth-saiyan Pan. His eyes lingered on the latter. He felt his heart swell with both pain and pleasure, as it always did every time he looked at her.

Oblivious, Pan looked over at him and smiled. "Hey, Dad, what's up? Feels like I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Maybe he's too busy playing superhero," Bulla said with a smirk.

Pan glared at the bratty blue-haired half-pint. Bulla just grinned in the face of Pan's displeasure and stuck her tongue out.

"I'm sorry," Gohan said quietly. "I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

Pan shrugged. "Mom says you ought to visit more often."

Gohan didn't reply. He didn't know how he felt about Videl. At the time they had conceived Pan, Gohan had been emotionally vulnerable, scarred and wracked with guilt and pain after his father's sacrifice in the Cell Games—ironically, very much like the state of mind he was in now. He had fled to Videl because he was thirsty for some connection and a way to ease the pain. And she—for her part, she had been awed by his strength, by his anger and agitation and aggression. She'd romanticized the idea that he'd saved the world, and, having always been in the spotlight and kept on a strict rein by her father, she'd wanted to do something a little naughty, rebellious…scandalous. In essence, the two had used each other. They'd played on each other's little insecurities in a preteen fling.

And Pan had resulted. How could they have known that their one act of indiscretion would have such a major consequence? But it had. Gohan and Videl were both still young, in school, and financially dependent. They couldn't have moved out to raise the child alone, and they weren't even sure they really wanted to. Gohan still lived at home in Mount Paozu, and Videl still lived with her father—and simply put, Pan lived in the Satan household because they were rich and better equipped to host a child than the nearly penniless Sons.

Not the most romantic of backgrounds. It never really seemed to bother Pan, though. That was a major relief to Gohan.

After making himself a sandwich in the kitchen, Gohan sat down on the couch in the living room, near where the Partial Club was seated in a kind of lopsided circle on the floor.

Marron was wistfully running her fingers through Bulla's hair. "I wish I could grow it like that, Bulla."

Bulla smirked, her already-large ego inflating. "Must be my genes. I _am_ the Princess of All Saiyans, after all."

"You should let me braid it!" Marron pouted and made her eyes large. "Please?"

"No way!" Bulla was unmoved by the puppy dog routine. "You're a fashion disaster, Miss Pigtails-and-Pink." She paid no mind to Marron's self-conscious twiddling of the pink bow at the end of one of her pigtails and continued, "Considering how you look every day, you'd just make me a mess!"

Valese's tail twitched. "You don't have to be so rude."

"I don't recall asking for your input, Sweetness," Bulla said idly as she examined her glittering aquamarine nails.

"You painted your nails to match your hair and eyes?" Marron asked. "At that rate, you're gonna just start to blend together into a mass of blue! If you wore all blue too, and painted your skin, I bet a giant bird could mistake you for a blueberry and swoop down and try to eat you!"

Pan shook her head. "Marron, why are you so weird?"

Bulla, on the other hand, leapt to her feet in outrage. "Are you calling me _fat?_" she screeched.

"I think you'd look more like a blueberry muffin," Goten put in, trying to be helpful.

Valese giggled as Bulla steamed. "The bird who tried to eat her would probably choke, though. On account of her being too sour."

"Yeah, he'd expect sweetness," Goten agreed with a wise nod of his head. "I like sour stuff but when I'm expecting to taste something sweet and it turns out to be sour, that makes it taste awful. There was this one time I picked up a cookie thinking it was chocolate chip, but it turned out to be oatmeal raisin. Even though I like oatmeal raisin, it was very disappointing."

Trunks grinned at his friend. "Once, when my family was at this fancy restaurant, my dad told me that the black oval thingies in the salad were grapes. I believed him and ate an olive." Trunks made a face at the memory, and Bulla was effectively cheered up and started to laugh. "He and Bulla thought it was _hilarious._"

"Maybe because you were stupid enough to believe that there were randomly sprinkled grapes in salad!" Bulla hooted.

Trunks's face went red. "Well, I'd heard of 'fruit salad,' and, you know…"

At this point, everyone but Goten burst into laughter at the expense of Trunks. Trunks crossed his arms, not having anticipated this turn of events. Desperate to turn the spotlight away from him, he pointed out, "Goten's _way_ more gullible than that! I could tell him the moon was made of green cheese and he'd believe me!"

Goten tilted his head. "What's 'gullible' mean, Trunks? And nuh _uh—_the moon isn't _green!_"

Trunks rolled his eyes. "Dummy. Then the moon's made of white cheese."

Goten's eyes got wide. "Really? It is?" Then he frowned as he thought about this, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Case in point," Trunks said with a grin to the rest of them, and Gohan controlled his urge to speak up in his brother's defense. He finished the last tasteless bites of his sandwich and watched silently. It always bothered him how Trunks treated his brother and purported 'best friend' like an idiot, but at the moment, he was too grateful to Trunks for keeping up the façade to find it in himself to reprimand the boy.

"But Trunks!" Goten said, tugging on his friend's sleeve with an uncharacteristic look of intense concentration on his face.

Trunks turned to him. "Yeah?"

"My dad's been out in space, near the moon, right? If it's made of cheese, then why hasn't my dad eaten it?"

A beat of silence. Goten's question was so earnest that even Gohan couldn't resist smiling.

Then Trunks answered, "I don't know, Goten; maybe he doesn't know what it's made of. Maybe he thinks it's, like, made of rock or something ridiculous like that."

Goten nodded, satisfied. He trusted Trunks implicitly, so if Trunks had said it, it must be the truth. That was the way Goten's mind worked when it came to everyone he loved. Precisely why the conceal of Goku's death was so easy. Gohan frowned. Was willfully taking advantage of his brother's trust really an all right thing to do? Deep down, Gohan knew the answer, but he didn't want to admit it, not even to himself.

"You know what I want to know?" Pan mused, looking from Trunks to Bulla. "What it's like to have another Trunks living in your house with you."

"How do your parents call you?" Valese asked Trunks, grinning. "Trunks One and Trunks Two?"

Trunks shrugged, not entirely comfortable discussing the stranger with his face. "Dad calls him 'Future Boy.' Me, just 'Boy.' Mom mostly calls him 'Time Traveler.'"

"He's _really_ cool!" Bulla gushed. "Nothing like the brother I know now."—Trunks frowned.—"He must've been through a lot tougher stuff, because he's really strong. You guys should all be _super_ jealous. I mean, he's even got a _sword!_"

"Yeah, that he used to shish-kabob my dad with!" Pan interjected, her voice rising.

Gohan judged that this would be a wise time to speak up. "No worries, Pan, I'm fine now."

Pan turned towards him, the fire in her eyes defeated. The anger drained from her as quickly as it had come, to be replaced with weary sadness. Leftover tears from the stress of that night came to the corners of her eyes. "What would I have done without a dad?"

_Good question._ Gohan couldn't speak. Something was stuck in his throat.

Fortunately, Marron emerged as his savior. "Probably about the same thing I'm doing now," she said airily. "Dad hasn't been home in a week, going on two."

"That's different!" Pan snapped. "He's alive and safe. You know where he is."

"Doesn't change the fact that I don't have a dad." Marron shrugged.

Gohan was surprised to hear that Marron felt that way about Krillin's absence. Just because he wasn't at the house right now, Marron concluded that she practically _had_ no father? He wondered if Krillin even considered the strain he was putting on his own household. He narrowed his eyes as he pursued this path of thought. And what was Krillin so afraid of, anyway, that he would forsake Eighteen and Marron to look after the Son house? What did Krillin think would happen to them in Goku's absence? It was possible he was keeping a look out, not for external enemies, but the dangers of the internal workings of the Son family, the vague threats Future Trunks had warned about. In fact, it was very likely that Krillin was not trying to protect the Sons, but protect everyone else _from_ the Sons. Gohan didn't know why that realization should hurt so much. It was a reasonable action for Krillin to take, but it still felt rather like a slap in the face.

Aloud, he said, to comfort Marron, "You've still got a dad. He's just got important business to attend to right now, and it involves living away from you for a brief time. But in the end, it's just to keep you safe. He loves you, more than anything. You know that, right?"

And besides, Goku had been missing for much of Gohan's childhood. Not through any fault of his own, but all those mornings waking up with his father gone more often than not had taught Gohan quickly to realize that he always had a loving, caring father, even when he couldn't see or touch him. Even when he was off battling monsters and demons, or recuperating from a tough fight, or even, well, dead. After all, everything Goku had ever done, even if it wasn't clear how at the time, had been out of love for Gohan. Of course, it wasn't always easy to see it that way. All the time without him had been tough and Gohan would be lying if he said he didn't feel even a tiny bit of resentment. But he tried to keep perspective, especially now, for Marron's sake.

Marron gave a slow nod and then, looking straight at him with clear eyes, she said, "I could say the same thing about your dad."

Gohan felt like he'd been doused with ice-cold water. Marron was a flighty, airheaded kid, and a lot of the things she said either made no sense or a peculiar kind of sense, but once in a while, she'd do this. She'd say something remarkably sane and profound, something that he needed to hear, something he could never ask for, but she just somehow knew. It would always strike him like lightning to a leafless tree.

Come to think of it, how much did Marron even know about the situation with his dad?

"Do you know where my dad is?" Gohan carefully asked, making sure to place each word in a non-emphatic, nonchalant tone. It was somehow harder to talk about, harder to think about, almost impossible to even conceive, when it came to discussing the hard facts with someone else. Someone who knew the shameful thing he had done. A child, no less. _Breathe, Gohan. Don't forget to breathe._

Marron faltered. "I…I have an idea," she said, and Gohan blessed her for not further articulating in front of Goten. She could be remarkably perceptive.

So she hadn't been told. She'd pieced it together, probably from her father's sudden interest in staying in the Son house. Gohan inclined his head toward her, hoping to signal that she'd guessed correctly.

Goten looked from Marron to Gohan, confused. "I don't!" he blurted out. "I have no idea where Dad's gone. I usually see him at least three times a day!"

Gohan couldn't help but smirk. _Mealtimes._

"But now I don't see him at all," Goten continued, a petulant tone creeping into his voice. "Have you seen him, Gohan? Do you know where he is?"

Trunks's cool blue eyes shifted to Gohan, but he didn't speak and his expression was unreadable. Gohan remembered Trunks bringing this problem up at the outset: What _was_ he going to tell Goten? But Trunks wasn't giving anything away, still allowing the ball to remain firmly in Gohan's court. Whatever Gohan said now, Trunks would follow suit. At least, Gohan hoped he would.

Marron, meanwhile, looked very confused. Gohan could practically see the gears in her mind working furiously overtime. She was pretty certain now that Goku had been dead for a while, but…Goten didn't know? Gohan bit his lip, knowing Marron was expecting him to come clean with the truth, expecting to have to comfort Goten, and had Goku died in any other manner, that was probably what would have happened. But Gohan had done it. He couldn't tell Goten the truth; he just couldn't.

He looked away from the judging eyes, the two pairs of blue eyes boring into him and the trusting pair of charcoal eyes that matched his, the eyes that looked so much like his father's. Gohan stared at the ground as he answered Goten at last. "He's on vacation."

Marron couldn't help an exclamation of surprise, but she mercifully said nothing. Trunks, however, couldn't help but remark, "Interesting," in an incredulous tone that he semi-successfully tempered to sound more modulated and calm.

"That makes no sense," Valese commented mildly. She didn't seem to understand the subtext; she was just perhaps a little too honest for her own good. "Goku doesn't work. And don't you usually vacation _at home?_ Or with your family someplace?"

Goten rubbed his chin, considering. Even he had to discard that excuse like the cardboard cutout it was. "Vacation from what?"

Bulla put her hands on her hips and grinned. "Maybe he needed a vacation from _you,_" she told Goten. "You and your stream of questions, and your annoying voice, and your copycat hair!"

Goten gasped and his eyes widened as he considered the possibility. "He left…to get away from me?"

"No, no!" Gohan wanted to nip that thought process in the bud. He was rather irritated at Bulla for sowing those seeds. That sort of insecurity had led to Gohan's long-running anger and abandonment issues, none of which he wanted to see repeated in his little brother. "You know how he's been sick, right?"

Goten nodded, his face still a little pale. "His heart."

"That's right." Gohan swallowed and forced a smile. He had to seem his normal, optimistic self. "He said he felt like he would get better quicker if he was in different weather for a while. And he felt like he was worrying us and being a burden, so he'd rather return when he's well again."

Goten mulled it over for a long while as Gohan envisioned gnawing his own nails to the quick and yanking out clumps of his hair, but forced himself to remain still. Finally, Goten nodded. "I guess that makes sense. So he is taking a vacation from his family…but not 'cause he's sick of us."

"No, he's just plain sick," said Bulla, most unhelpfully. Gohan blamed his mounting stress on the overwhelming urge he had to strangle the child. He felt sick as soon as the thought came to mind, though, even as a fleeting joke. He didn't need to exhibit any more murderous violence towards his friends and allies.

"But he's gonna get better!" Goten said, looking hopefully up at Gohan. "Right?"

Gohan nodded. "Right." He felt sicker.

Marron and Trunks exchanged a look, and then both regarded Goten with a mixture of sympathy and protectiveness. Goten didn't notice, but Gohan did.

"I was worried about that," Goten confessed. "'Cause Dad _really_ didn't want to take his medicine. I thought maybe it was 'cause it tasted bad, and I put it in a needle and stuck it into him, but he wished it out! I still don't get why he did that…"

"Wished it out, huh?" Marron said quietly. She still didn't know the whole story, but there it was. Another piece of the puzzle. "So we won't be able to use the Dragon Balls for a while."

"Yeah! That's what I said!" Goten agreed, the subtlety lost on him. "I don't get why he wasted the Dragon Balls just to make it so he never got stuck with a needle. I guess he thinks, 'cause no one's really attacked us lately, that we can start using the Dragon Balls on little things."

Valese cleared her throat, stretching out on the floor. "That's a bad idea," she warned. "My mom taught me a thing or two about Dragon Balls when she was here. Dependency on the Dragon Balls for small problems quickly turns into abuse, which turns into overuse. Overheated Dragon Balls get unstable, especially if they're used repeatedly on the same planet. There's a reason magic isn't used for everything, guys. It's unnatural. Over time, it creates a lot of negative energy."

She looked around, seeming to notice everyone's eyes fixed on her for the first time. Blushing at the attention, she looked down at her hands. "I'd just be more careful, is all."

Pan leaned forward, her orange bandanna slipping onto her forehead. "What happens," she asked, in hushed tones, "when the Dragon Balls get too unstable?"

Valese looked uncomfortable. "Well, in some cases, the planets have been known to, um, explode."

Everyone's loud exclamation of surprise was at the highest point of intensity.

"Explode?" squeaked Marron, looking around nervously as if she expected detonation any moment.

"You say it so _casually,_" Trunks said, looking at Valese in disbelief.

"You wait until _now_ to give us news like that? How long have you been sitting on that information?" Bulla demanded.

Valese held up her hands, signaling for order. "Sheesh, guys, don't panic. It takes _years and years_ for that to happen. And the yearly period before potential use really helps slow the process down. I don't imagine the Earth's in danger of blowing in any of our lifetimes, but eventually, if the Dragon Balls kept getting used regularly enough…Ka-blam!" She clapped her hands together and smiled, trying to relieve some of the tension. "That's why it's better not to depend on wishes to solve all your problems. Sometimes you gotta work instead. That's the way it's supposed to be."

So the exploding planet—just some big cosmic karma, a punishment for people too lazy to fix their problems without magical intervention? Gohan thought about it. It hardly seemed like a fair trade, but it made a sort of sense. The Dragon Balls were a little too good to be true. Gohan was quickly learning that there was always a drawback in life. Always.

It _really_ wasn't fair, though. Having wishes granted was such a sweet deal. People had dreamed of genies, and magic lamps, and falling stars for as long as dreamers had existed. To give people some of their most primitive, deeply-held desires and then add a catch like that—it was almost too cruel. How could the dragons who had created the Dragon Balls for hapless humans to find have not expected the people who unlocked their secrets to take full advantage? And Gohan couldn't rightly say he was _sorry_ for using wishes. They had usually been used to bring someone he loved back from the grave. At one point, they had brought _him_ back. Still, was he now to believe that all of that had contributed to the eventual dooming and deterioration of the whole planet? Was it worth it?

"I guess we probably shouldn't tell the generation after you about the Dragon Balls at all," Gohan said thoughtfully, looking over the children. "Let them be a secret that dies with us."

"And not tell our kids about our awesome Dragon Ball-related adventures?" Pan yelped, offended. "Are you crazy? They'll think we're so cool!"

"We could just tell them not to use them," Trunks suggested hopefully.

"You think they'd listen? Would you?" Gohan pointed out.

Trunks shrugged. "You've got a point there, Nerd Boy."

"I don't know that keeping them in ignorance would help," Valese said quietly. "There's a chance they'd find out about them, or that someone would, and start using them without any knowledge of the consequences of overuse. I think it's probably better to pass down the knowledge of the Dragon Balls—and the danger involved. That way there'll always be someone monitoring the use."

Gohan couldn't fault the child's reasoning. There was something she wasn't saying, though. He could sense it, in the way she wouldn't look anyone in the eye, in the way she fidgeted. Valese had a secret. Gohan thought about pressing, but ultimately, decided against it. He had enough secrets of his own. He'd learned to respect the secrets of others.

Besides, if it was truly important, if it would affect the rest of them, Valese would tell. Gohan was as sure of that as he was sure that she was hiding something. She'd tell when it was necessary, and not a moment sooner.

* * *

The woman ran up to him, her dark cloak doing a poor job of concealing the bright blue hair jutting out. "I have it. The last one," she told him breathlessly, hurrying to bring the object from the folds of her robe.

"I don't need to see it. You've done well."

She blushed. "You trust me, then?"

"Oh, my sweet dear Bulla." He grinned, though it wasn't a happy expression. Somehow he looked like he might strike her, and then in all sincerity and tenderness, gently kiss the bruise away. "You're the only one I _can_ still trust."

She fell into step beside him as they made their way down a familiar maze of passageways, to the warehouse that had become his hideout. The other six, powerful orange orbs were there, and as they neared, Bulla felt the final matching sphere as it warmed up and pulsed in her hand like a living thing. She smiled, stealing a glance at the man beside her. He stared ahead, black eyes above an even blacker scowl. Even with the harsh expression, he had grown to look so much like his father, a cutting image. She felt a physical ache but ignored it for the sake of her sanity.

In an ironic role reversal, Bulla felt shy now, afraid of how the figure beside her would react to even a slightly incendiary comment. Still, she had never been one to mince words. "It's been a while since Trunks disappeared. That doesn't…have anything to do with your decision, does it?"

"Wherever Trunks is, this'll be sure to reach him." He gave her that odd smile again. She felt sick.

When they approached the warehouse door, he reached out and pushed it up. There they were, all six beauties lined up in a row.

"Ladies first," he murmured, gesturing her inside. A part of her was disturbed that he made it a point to have her step into the warehouse first, but she nonetheless did as she was bid. He walked in after her, shutting the door with a slam.

Bulla jumped and spun around. They were in pitch darkness. "What are you doing?" she asked, clutching onto the Dragon Ball in her hand unconsciously. She could use it for leverage, if she had to. Her heart sank even as the thought crossed her mind. He could take it from her by force without a problem, if he wanted to.

He didn't answer her and in the eerie silence, she heard footsteps. Slow, measured, unhurried. Inversely proportional to the rate of her heartbeat. This had been a horrible idea. Step, step. Closer and closer. Like the swagger of a lion as it came upon a handicapped, weak gazelle. The gait of a smug predator, and she was the helpless, terrified prey. Role reversals. It served her right. Why had she trusted him? Why? Of course, she knew his sanity was long gone. He was nothing like the boy she once knew, but she had wanted so badly to believe that he was still there, and that, unbelievably, he wanted her on his side. He wanted _her._ She'd betrayed her own brother for a fantasy, lived in denial even after he'd mutilated her father. Another step. Bulla just wanted to collapse to the floor in sobs, but even now her pride would not allow it.

A final step. And then…a click. Bulla's eyes were flooded with light. For a wild moment, Bulla thought that the click had been the cocking of a gun, that he'd shot her and the light was the beginning of the afterlife. But she blinked, disoriented, to see his finger still on the light switch. He was looking at her in dim amusement. She had never felt more humiliated.

She said nothing as he walked over to her, with that same loping grace. A power play. She'd played right into his hands.

"You didn't scream," he noted. "Though you whimpered once or twice."

Had she? She didn't even recall.

"You're sweating like a pig," he continued. His voice revealed none of what he was feeling—contempt, disgust, anger…pity? No, not pity. Pity was a long-lost concept to those hard, black eyes. "Although your bladder didn't release. I guess you held on to your dignity somewhat, eh?"

Bulla said nothing. She was shaking.

He slipped behind her, fluid as water, and his hands gently brushed her collarbone, stroking her throat. Dancing halfway between a threat and a caress. "You said you trusted me," he breathed. His lips were so close to her ear, his breath ruffled her hair. She swallowed, wanting to be repulsed but unable to be. She still remembered that sweet little boy. "Are you a liar?" he continued, his voice honey sweet and poisonous as a wasp sting. "Are you a liar like your brother?" Without giving her a chance to answer—she couldn't have, anyway—he abruptly dropped his hand to her wrist and applied pressure in just the right way that she was forced to drop the Dragon Ball she held. It fell to the ground and rolled, as if magnetically attracted, to its kin.

He remained behind her, holding her by the waist like a hostage or a lover's embrace, as he summoned Shenron. The lights flickered as electricity crackled and the Dragon Balls glowed like crazy before shooting a beam of light into the air. The beam of light formed the shape of the mighty Shenron and materialized, taking the roof clean off of the warehouse. Bulla flinched as the rubble fell away with a crash and the wind whipped her hood off her head. The sky darkened with unnaturally smoky clouds.

"State your wish," boomed the voice of the dragon.

_This is it,_ Bulla thought. In truth, she wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to wish for. Control of the world, perhaps, or maybe something pettier, like the death of Trunks, or even the death of herself. Bulla braced herself for whatever she might hear.

He stated clearly, "Shenron, I wish for an unlimited amount of wishes with no time limit."

Shenron's eyes glowed as he processed the wish. Then he nodded. "It is done."

"You can try to bring your dad back again now," Bulla whispered as her mind raced, trying to figure out his intentions.

"He made his choice. And even if he changed his mind, bringing that fool back would be counterproductive to my plans now. He'd only try to stop me."

"Stop you…from doing what?" Bulla had to ask, even though she was afraid to.

"From wishing until this whole damn planet just sets on fire and disintegrates. From creating enough negative energy to tear the world apart the same way I've been torn apart. My father always had such an affinity for this planet, much more so than his family, so bringing him back would just be a detriment, you see. You want anything, Bulla? For a brief, violent time, this world is ours. We can wish for anything we want, have anything we want, before we finally destroy this filth, and ourselves with it. Let's just fulfill our lives, and then end it all. My father was wrong, after all. There's nothing about this pathetic planet worth saving."

Bulla's eyes widened. He was still behind her, and it was just as well. Hearing his voice saying these things was bad enough, but she didn't think she could have withstood having to see the look in his eyes. He seemed gleeful, ecstatic. She had made a terrible mistake. Her only hope was that her brother was doing something to fix all this. She was so sorry.

She dreaded finding out what he planned on using the final life-fulfilling wishes on.

"This is how the world ends," he whispered, his lips a breath away from her neck. "This is the final act of the tragic farce that was my life, that was this planet's rotten existence. I didn't author my beginning, or my middle, but I sure as hell intend on penning my ending of my own volition. Still, I couldn't have done it without you. I'll reward you. You may make the first wish, and spell the beginning of the end. Start us off, my dear. Doom us. It's delicious, isn't it?"

_Hurry, Trunks. Wherever you are._ Bulla could only pray to her brother, because this was a problem too big for even gods to help her with now.


End file.
